In case you haven’t noticed by the way I dump on this blog and on social media in general, I like keeping the world informed about what’s going on in my life. Part of this is self-preservation. I know there are times in the past where my mental health has been really bad and no one knew about it and so I try to be more open about it now. But I also post to Facebook or to the blog about other dramas in my life (think sprained ankles and poison ivy) so that my absence can be explained (in pre-Covid times) or my distance will not be taken personally.
Oh. Yeah. Kim’s life is crazy now that she’s helping her Mom so much so we’re probably not going to see as much of her for awhile.
But lately I worry that I take the, “Keeping people in my circle updated on my life,” step too far into, “Complains all the time,” territory. I started thinking about this when someone in my house (I will protect the innocent) got a little snippy about my whining about my ankle. I thought, Uh oh. Have I become that person who complains all the time?
And that started me really looking into all of the things I talk about and I definitely noticed: I’m doing way more than keeping people updated. I’m begging for sympathy.
And now I hate myself, of course.
Not really. But…uggggg…I don’t want to be that person. The one who is constantly complaining about how tired she is or how itchy she is or how bruised she is.
So I’ve spent the last few days trying to be really deliberate about the things I post and the things I talk about. So, I’m going to just do these weekly summaries at the end of my blog posts to keep everyone informed, but maybe try to not pepper in my complaints into everything I write here.
UPDATE ON THE NEGATIVE SHIT: Our household has no income currently, and none planned in the horizon. Hopefully Donnie will find a job but I’ve started keeping my eyes out for flexible work-from-home/part-time positions that I could maybe work around the kid’s schooling and my Mom’s care. I’ve got another batch of poison ivy popping up and I still don’t know where it’s coming from. I’ve washed all of the bedding this week, I’m going to wash the couch cushion covers today. My ankle is still bruised and swollen. I’m still working with my psychiatrist because I’m still feeling some incredible despair when my mind drifts to the future and I’m still unable to stay focused because my worry pulls my brain away constantly.
Now. The trick is to also counterbalance it with some positive stuff, right? And so that’s what this next part is for.
My kids are funny as shit, y’all. Now, it should be understood that it is very easy to make me laugh. No one is going to lament after I’m dead, “Remember when you could make her laugh? It was so rare,” because I laugh at mild jokes from cashiers like they’re doing a stand-up show downtown. I LAUGH A LOT. But my kids? All three of them? Are funny as shit and Wes and Nyoka are especially really learning the way to my funny bone and so this pandemic has basically been them testing out their material on my daily and my laughing constantly in return.
I’m on a great stretch of reading. God. I forgot how much reading makes me happy. I have read more in the month of July than I’ve read in the 6 months before. If I can finish the series I’m working on now before Saturday then this month may go done as the BEST MONTH EVER in reading. I’ll post more about that later.
I love my nose ring. It’s healing fine, I think. No problems. I love that N and I have it shared together.
Anyway…I can hear the dog stirring in the other room so he’ll need to go out soon. I’m going to try to be really deliberate about finding that line between “keeping friends and family informed of the challenges in my life” and “constantly whining about shit.”