Time Out


I need a time out. Athletes get them. Misbehaving or overtired children get them. I need one. I need one that lasts a week. I won’t get that but I better do something. And fast. 

I’m out of balance again, still. OK, so today I am and have been for over two weeks. Losing my balance this time was a cumulative thing. First a kid got sick then I did, then and during it was Halloween, there were social events, things at school, life decisions looming, computers were acting up so I wasn’t writing regularly—in fact, I’m writing this first draft long-hand—then there was a weekend of one thing after another. Monday rolled around and my husband was out one night and then had late afternoon work emergencies so I’ve been on kid duty, bedtime, baths for days in a row. I’m whining, I know. I’m venting, yes. Starting to feel free, that too.

Let’s not dramatize—feelings are not forever things. They ebb and flow and the sooner I internalize that the easier it will be to go with the feeling and not frantically try to make it go away. That frantic need to get past a feeling prevents me from moving through it. What better way to ensure feeling-acid-reflux than a half-assed pass at it in the first place? So, I’m off kilter and I’m having trouble being there. I need to feel it.

So it has been acknowledged, I need a time out. One thing I have kept up on is exercise, my usual saving grace. But I need a break from that too. Desperate times and all that—my body aches for a break. I have a chronic health problem and I can easily overdo it. I’m there now. My body, mind, soul all need to regenerate and if I continue to push, I will be even sorrier than I am tonight. When I get to this point I need rest and alone time. Quiet and calm.

I have missed writing but I have been thinking about it for days and have been resisting because I knew I couldn’t take a lot of time for it.  My computer has been acting up so I’m now writing this blog post as an email to myself. It’s not my preferred method of writing, transcribing from long-hand, emailing myself, but it is still writing. And it is working. I’m tipping the scales back slowly, gently and with creativity rather than throwing up my hands and saying “I can’t, it’s too hard.” Because that’s crap. It’s hard yes, but I can handle it. Sometimes things fall off the priority list. My kids aren’t going to swimming lessons tonight because I am so incredibly exhausted that if I take them, I will not only tip my scales further, I will bitch at them the whole time. So instead, they are watching the TV version of the “Olivia” books. Thirty minutes of bliss both for me and for them.

And now it’s post macaroni and cheese dinner, still no husband and my four year old wants to play blocks so I will do that and cobble this post together later and know that I am on the road to getting my time out. I will feel better soon. Early to bed and tomorrow after school drop-offs, the house is mine. I will put my lists aside. I will leave the dishes in the sink and I will put myself in “time out.” And I will like it.

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