Monday, March 21, 2011

The Cake of Hate

Photo Credit:
In case you've been living under a rock for the last ten days, you probably figured out that I epically failed at the whole NaBloPoMo thing. This whole "one blog post every day for a month" is not meant for me at this time in my life. I am far too busy in my role as mayor of Very Important Personville (population: 1). I just finished a sizeable contract, have another one on the horizon, and another-other one on its way. Then there are my feisty little gremlins, of course, and a house that looks more like an episode of Hoarders than anything on HGTV.

If I manage to put together two posts a week, I will throw myself a damn parade.

I could beat myself up about not meeting this lofty goal I set, but frankly I've been my own best punching bag enough lately. There's no need to add more icing on the cake of hate.

Or "hate cake". Both are kind of catchy, really.

It's ironic that my last blog post had to do with self-esteem, ego and all that, because I've fallen so far down the slippery slope of self-love that I'm scrambling to fasten enough vines together to pull myself back up. I'm not a big fan of Me right now. "And why is that?" you ask with a fair bit of bewilderment. Well, I'm glad you asked. I worked through a lot of it today, I think. But first I really need to paint a picture of this less-than-fabulous Monday morning.

I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to both the cat meowing and Spawnling calling me from upstairs. Spawnling came into our bed and the cat stopped her noisemaking, so I went back to sleep.

That is, until Spawn peed the bed - our bed - and I had to take care of that. I then fell back asleep and woke up at 7:15 - a full 45 minutes after my alarm is supposed to go off. This is because Geekster set the alarm for 7:30 a.m on Saturday so he could wake up for Tae Kwon Do and never set it back to 6:30. I never checked the alarm before bed, so... yeah. Oops. It's a good thing my internal clock woke up me, or we would have been far more pressed for time.

It's Monday, and we have now woken up late. Oh, and my cat is eating a mouse on the kitchen floor. Fabulous.

Gutsy had a tummy ache last night which persisted into this morning, so we kept him home. One gremlin home on a would-be childless Monday isn't the end of the world, but certainly not what I had planned for my first actual day off in days (I've been a busy worker bee the last couple of weeks - especially on gremlin-free days).

So now it's Monday, we woke up late, there's half a mouse on my floor, and a sick child home.

And just when I think the day can't possibly get any more fan-freaking-tastic, I remember that I have a doctor's appointment. A pap test, even. And my doc's office is a thirty minute drive.

And guess what? It's fucking snowing. Like, a lot.

That was the start of my Monday. Add to this that I'm feeling ridiculously small and insecure lately, and I just knew that if I didn't do something, I was going to take a day trip into my Dark Place. I don't go there very often, but when I do it's not exactly a fun excursion.  It's all rainclouds and misery and heaping servings of self-pity. Considering I'm The Maven and do everything big and impressive, you can only imagine how impressive my Dark Place is. (It got a five-star rating in last year's Depressive Traveller's Guide.)

I'm a woman of action. These things need to be nipped in the bud quickly so they don't fester. I decided the best thing to do was to get some therapy. So I emailed a friend of mine and offered her coffee in exchange for her couch and wise words. She wrote back right away with an invitation to come by, and I truly believe that turned my entire day around. I told her everything that's been bothering me lately - baring my soul in a way everyone has to do from time to time. She did all those things a good therapist does, like nodding and empathizing and interjecting with some sound advice from time to time. And, in the end, we both agreed that I'm running predominantly on fear these days. Not exactly healthy.

All three of my children have had a hard time with transitions. Switching gears is a challenge for them. Time for dinner = tears at giving up playing trains. Time for bed = tantrum over turning off the t.v. I used to blame the sugar (my favourite scapegoat), but I'm kind of seeing a genetic connection right now - although I'll deny it if anyone asks me.

I'm in this high point of transition in my life. The kids are getting older, I'm going back to work part-time,  There are big, healthy lifestyle changes going on. I'm no longer who I was just a few months ago.  She was amazing, but this new woman emerging is going to shine even brighter. Like my friend said to me this morning, I just have to go through the process of shedding my old skin first, and that can be uncomfortable. I'm going to have doubts, I'm going to have worries, I'm going to have that little voice in my head telling me that I'm not good enough, not strong enough, not awesome enough. I'm going to need reassurance from those close to me. But, more importantly, I'm going to have to learn to reassure myself that everything is okay; that I'm going to be okay; that I am The Maven and I totally rock - even during my weaker moments.

I mean, who else can have an impromptu therapy session for the cost of a coffee? Major score.

I left her place and drove through the snow, belting out tunes and enjoying the scenery. I walked into the doctor's office smiling, and she said she wished everyone was that happy about getting a pap test.

Now I'm home, blogging for the first time in days, and feeling a little bit lighter. Things are going to be okay as soon as I get this skin off.  Anyone have a good exfoliator?


  1. I can thoroughly relate to the skin shedding.

    Just remember...

  2. Could have been worse...could have been a pet mouse :P


Go ahead: feed the attention whore (just don't tell the zookeeper).