I’m really bad at this. I have a tendency to believe that I have the shoulders of Arnold Swarchenegger in his Terminator days and can continue to pile more and more on them. But the truth I don’t want to accept is that underneath all that bulk is bone and my back is breaking.
As I’ve commented in few posts, I’ve got a lot going on right now. I’m planning two parties, leaving a job, completing a book, going to visit the ‘rents and, on top of all that, trying to remember to pay the man so he leaves my electricity on and prevent mold from growing on the feta in my fridge.
Now a lot of this is my own fault. I took too much on and everything has bottle necked to happen in the matter of about two weeks. I realize that, had I planned a little better, I would not find myself in this situation. But anyway you cut it, the slamming together of all this equals me becoming catatonic on my couch and praying that my to-do list will be cleared when I finally muster the energy to do anything but change the channel.
My hubby has been busy himself and, I’ve noticed that when this happens, I want to alleviate his stress and make his to-do list smaller. Very nice of me on one hand, very much an undercut on the other. Because what generally ends up happening is I take on everything that we could split up and find myself ignoring my own work, falling behind on those things that are important to only me.
I’m beginning to feel like a 50’s housewife without the perfectly coiffed hair and pressed dress.
So when my husband called to tell me he was on his way home, he didn’t have to work too hard to hear the stress in my voice. Later, as we sat down for dinner, I knew what needed to be said.
“You’re my risk for today,” I said numbly.
“Oh yeah? What’s that?” he asked.
“I need help,” I moaned.
“Ok,” he said easily.
“But I’m weak,” I cried. Literally. Tears started flowing down my cheeks.
“No your not. You need help. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Yes there is,” my stubborn gremlin bit back. “It means I’m weak and I can’t handle it.”
“Well, you’re wonderful and I love you. But you’re not Superwoman.”
And he’s right. As much as I want to be, if nothing else than to have kick ass fight moves, the truth is I’m human. A sloppy, stubborn human. And if I’m going to make my way through life without relying on illegal substances (something I’d very much like to accomplish), then I’ve got to lean sometimes, especially on the person who vowed to do so. If I can put my crazy on anyone, he’s the most logical choice.