Adulting Fail

Most of the time I am deliriously happy with my life. It's really not that tough of a life. I have a wonderful husband, an adorable son, warm home, a healthy body, a sweet baby girl on the way, a beautiful faith, loving extended family/in-laws, etc. It's great. 

Sometimes though, my brain doesn't quite get the full message that life is good and I'm not the worst person that ever lived. 

While Sel was doing his away rotation, we went to visit him and stay at this awesome hotel/waterpark. They had this "toilet bowl" slide where Row and I got to watch Sel slowly spiral around in his tube before disappearing through a center of swirling water. I feel like I'm stuck on the tube sometimes and I just keep spiraling toward a center of adulting failure. 

The simplest things start to feel like insurmountable tasks. Sel asked me about two months ago to schedule an eye appointment for him. There were some other things that made it way harder than a simple phone call (getting a new insurance card) but even the idea of making a silly, simple phone call stressed me out. Sel essentially asks me for nothing, ever. Why was this so hard for me?!

Yesterday I accidentally kicked Rowan in the head which caused him to cry hysterically. I sat on the floor holding him bawling equally as hard apologizing over and over. Sel came in thinking something seriously wrong was happening. I was crying too hard to tell him he didn't need to take either of us to the E.R. Today, I was packing a bag of Nerf guns for a youth activity tonight and Rowan snuck up behind and I again accidentally banged his poor, sweet head AGAIN. Commence another mother-son crying session. 

I look around at other people who have more kids, more responsibilities, less time, spouses who are gone more, work a crazy amount of hours and have absolutely no idea how they have their stuff together while I can't even remember to get our mail on a daily basis, or take the trash cans to the curb, or wash my kids hands every five minutes so he doesn't get sick every five days. 

I am surrounded by people who are acing life. Not only are they doing adulting like a pro, they mentally have their stuff together. They don't feel overwhelmed with their responsibilities and they know how to pull the brakes on their negative spiral. 

When Sel and I got engaged, by dad told Sel he had already seen him expertly walk me away from the edge. I realized then exactly what my parents have had to do my whole life for me and what it looked like Sel was getting into. I feel like I'm always wandering out there to that edge of feeling like a total failure. I don't think I suffer from depression or anxiety per say, I just am always toeing that line. 

I can bounce back to feeling better pretty quickly, but it generally takes someone's strong hand to help me back (usually Sel's ridiculously manly hand). 

I remember hearing that someone suffered from depression and thinking they will get over it soon enough. Take some meds, see a therapist, write what you're grateful for, etc. I don't think I ever realized what it might actually be like for that person, that they can get over individual battles with depression but they might always be at war with their minds, always having to make an effort to fight back against that dumb toilet bowl slide. 

I will do the dishes, make dinner, AND do laundry and feel momentarily awesome about myself. I will then look around and realize I should have cleaned up more, done a hundred stimulating activities with Rowan so he won't fail at life, done something sweet for my hard-working hubs, read a classic or a medical journal so I don't lapse into a zombie of a person, attempted to organize the things that have been staring expectantly at me for weeks, run a few miles, planned my meals for the week, visited the elderly, study my scriptures, grrrr. My mind just starts to blaze the path of comparing. So-and-so cleans their baseboards with a toothbrush and works a full-time job and never buys chocolate kisses for their kid to pass out to on Valentines day and ends up eating half the bag before Sunday. I think I purposely try to make myself seem extraordinarily laid back because then I can NOT care about those things. Good for so-and-so and their accomplishments cause I'm over here re-watching The Office with my feet happily propped on a pile of clean laundry I should fold. 

Tomorrow I will again chide myself for over-sharing and throwing my feelings on a public page instead of just packing them silently away in my journal. I respect people being real though. I've spent a good portion of my life not being real (classic people pleaser problems) and I feel like being real today. Today wasn't excellent, but tomorrow probably will be. And if not, thank goodness for Sel. And Rowan's giggles. And most of all, chocolate.