A Glimpse Into My Irrationality

Standard

I am not having a good day.

I was in the midst of my learning activities on my phone when my wife called during her break. Three times. Not knowing if the software would reset if I set it aside, I trudged on through the programs and ignored my wife’s calls. When I finished I asked her if she wanted to call. She did.

I profusely apologized to her about not picking up straightaway and immediately started looking for things to do around the house to do penance for my transgression. She told me that she’d set aside the stuff for my next cup of coffee. I told her I saw but I can’t have it yet, that I haven’t earned it. She told me I don’t have to earn the coffee, but of course I do. I have things left on my checklist that haven’t been done up to this point of the day and I need to get those done. So while I had her on speaker, I cleaned the cat box, washed my hands, and cycled the empty water jugs back into rotation. The reservoir is filling as I type this, then I can go top that off and put it away, then once I’ve typed this I can breathe and maybe have that cup of coffee.

I am convinced that because I didn’t pick up the phone immediately after she called that I’m a bad person, that she should be mad at me for wasting her break time, and that I need to be punished for doing so. The only punishment that I can think of is to finish the stuff I have to do and then sit here doing nothing, drinking nothing. It’s not time for me to do anything else yet and so with nothing to do I will do nothing.

Every mistake I’ve ever made comes back to haunt me. Every time I’ve done something wrong gets recalled and even though they’re years and years old I still have to somehow make up for them, even though I don’t know anyone that would remember what I did wrong way back then. There’s not enough I can do to make up for a lifetime of errors and so I find myself inadequate, lessened, unworthy.

And I have yet to find a way to control this except for distracting myself to the point that I forget what’s going on and have mentally moved on from this incident. But sitting and doing nothing gives me nothing to do except dwell on my failures as a person. Maybe that’s for the best, maybe that’s by design.

So this is my irrational brain in control. I don’t like it, but I don’t know what to do to stop it. I’ll understand if this is too weird for you and you want to stop reading my blog or unfriend me on Facebook. No one wants to have to put up with this and it was wrong of me to put you through it as well. I just didn’t have anything else to write about today and for once I figured that I’d write my feelings down and share those. I know it was a mistake, but I’m going to be brave and hit the Publish button now, let the aftermath work  itself however it will.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “A Glimpse Into My Irrationality

  1. SL

    YOUR BLOG… YOU write whatever motivates you to put something down. I know you don’t believe it and yet and still writing this down was a good thing. Hopefully it helped you. if it didn’t, hopefully it was distracting, and if not, you did something productive by putting your feelings out for people to see. I am not that brave, I am not that strong. Reading what you write helps me look to maybe becoming that little bit braver, and stronger…

    HUGS

    Like

  2. Allessandra Desiderio

    Actually you’ve activated the “momma mode”. I want to come over and pull you on my lap and cuddle you and tell you that it’s okay and no one is upset at you and have some coffee, and just hush and rock you. I hope I haven’t weirded you out either.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s