For the past week or so I have indulged in a private Pity Party. No guests. Just me allowed. Really and truly a pathetic little affair. While I thought I was chugging along rather nicely on the outside, I am clearly not the oscar winning performer I had imagined I was. Funnily enough, the raiding of the party started with a complete (well maybe not complete but there was not much control involved) meltdown over something that while admittedly was rather irksome, did not deserve the response it received. Nor did the perpetrator of the offence. Although, in my shallow defence, how many times can you tell a child not to open their car door into another car? And imagine they were 10 years old--that's like telling them 500,000 times. But there I go again....must let it go.
Eventually we arrive at home and all the while, the whole event has percolated into a sludgy mess in our brains. DD2 goes into pleasing mode (and why is it that she only goes into pleasing mode when I am completely at wit's end?? I suspect I could fill some kind of psych text on that subject) and DD1 begins to shut down. My happy-go-lucky girl is sullen and withdrawn and I am to blame. Not a lovely thing to look in the face--downright ugly in fact. And as I take this all in, it slowly sinks in--and trust me I am a slow learner--that I just need to get a grip and get over myself. It was really just that simple. And so I did. And today was a better day. Go figure. Yes, work still is a swirling pit of chaos and yes, DH's health is still in limbo but I just don't have to live in all of that. In fact, I choose not to live in all of that. So far, so good.
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