Like all of you, I dreamt of the day I could be a grown up. I hated being told what to do, how to do it, what to eat, when to go to bed or not be able to make any decisions for myself. When I was a grown up I would do things differently:
- I would laugh more
- I would chill out more
- I would be kinder
- I would join in with my children’s games
- I wouldn’t get angry
- I would only do fun things
- I wouldn’t argue with my husband
- I would work if I wanted to work and not blame my children for my (perceived) dull life
So, I’m here now and I can tell you that some of these are ever-present, guiding me to choose one thing over another, but some of them I fail dismally at and the reason pure and simple is that being a grownup is bloody hard.
It’s hard not get angry when you’ve been on your feet for 6 hours cleaning and tidying for other people and you’ve asked someone 6 times to pick a piece of Lego up. It’s hard not arguing with your husband when you are so tired and so exhausted from going through the motions that you’ve forgotten what brought you together in the first place. AND it’s hard knowing whether working or not working is the right thing for everyone, because some days you manage and some days are just such hard work that you get in and want to cry.
I have blogged about my work-nursery-school journey here but suffice to say Thursday’s journey took it out of me. I spent all day in a training session, reflecting on my ability to control others and have difficult conversations. It was absolutely exhausting (oddly enough) and very very emotional, especially when I realised that the difficult conversation I had chosen to practice with is probably one I really should have with a guy who is a bit of a bully. I arrived at the training session late, because I start work late and then I had to leave the session early, because I leave early to pick up my children. So I felt a bit shit about that. Then I had my usual anxiety about making it in time and when we all fell into the house and I began to sort dinner etc out and Pickle kept asking me to look at something and The Monster (who doesn’t speak) started having a babbling rant because he couldn’t do something and I felt so tired I could have slept standing up, I then had to pop into the loo to have a little cry, because I’m not entirely sure any of this works.
My happiness has to count for something, right? I’m not happy. I don’t know if I’m just not happy at this small point in my life, or whether I’m not going to be happy whilst I do things this way. I do know that that “Mystical” grown up decision-making that I so craved as a child is shit. I need someone to tell me what is right and wrong, because I’m just too tired to see sense at the moment.
The terrible thing is I will probably continue on for a bit with the way things are and that’s because I just don’t know how to tackle it and actually it’s part of a much bigger issue. We need to make a decision on whether we stay in London or move out. I need to make a decision about whether I look for another job in a more stimulating industry because the one I am in is sleep inducing and I wouldn’t want to bore you with the detail. We need to make a decision about what we imagine our life will look like and the bottom line is that I DON’T WANT TO MAKE ANY DECISIONS.
So if it’s alright with you, I will take my tired bones off to a little hideaway, pull the duvet up over my head and pretend I’m not a grownup anymore. Because being a grownup is rubbish.