I feel frantic.

Like, all the time.  Even when I have a second to relax, I relax frantically.

When my husband pushes me out the door and says, “Go to Target.  Alone,” I still race through Target, compiling a list of all the things I hope to look at before my time is up or I start to feel guilty about being gone.

I’m kind of a type A person, but not all the way, not so Type A that my food can’t touch other food on my plate.  I am, however, obsessed with making lists.  I have a gigantic, long to-do list that has things like:

Re-do our bedroom: rip up carpet, wood floors, mount new fancy TV, new bookshelves

and things like:

Replace gross air freshener in car

And if I’m honest…they both have about an equal chance of happening.

It’s bigger than this, though.  It’s the little things…but then it’s also life itself.  I race around like I’m totally running out of time and I’m just trying to get everything done before it all spirals out of control.  My kids need to: travel, love reading, visit their family, have spontaneous dance parties, but also know when it’s time to be calm, visit Disney World, but also know the value of a dollar.  I freak out trying to make sure I’m doing it right.

Sometimes, frankly, I wonder if it’s because we’ve had enough reminders lately that life is so short, so fragile….or if somehow I know I’m going to tragically die young and so I’m subconsciously cramming all my life into these moments.

Nice thought, right?

I really don’t know how to not be frantic.  The ideas in my head always need to be put into action RIGHT NOW.  I’m trying to choose joy, live for the moment, YOLO, all the things I read on Internet Memes.  I’m trying to really listen to what people are telling me.

I remember once when my daughter was about 2, she had this SUPER fun habit of taking off her diaper when she was supposed to be falling asleep for her nap.  Once, that diaper had been full and she spread it EVERYWHERE.  It was all over her crib, herself, and the wall.  It was a disaster.  I posted about it on Facebook and someone said, “Enjoy these moments because they are out of the house before you know it.”

Um, thank you very much for your advice, but I don’t think I’m going to savor the shit-wiping moments.

But, I get it.  I get that I’m supposed to relax and slow down and enjoy.  I’m working on it.  Frantically.


One thought on “Frantic

  1. I call that anxiety. When you constantly feel unsettled basically and like you’re forgetting something or missing something or neglecting something. It’s exhausting!


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