I run this ‘betty-go-round’
I am the Head of Household for two homes.
My parents’ house and mine.
I make the hard decisions and I make sense of sticky situations.
I have a “salesman” type of communication.
I tell you what I need and it gets done. I can convince you of anything.
For as long as I could remember, everything I have ever wanted, I have been able to get it with the choice of words I decide to use.
This is not including childhood, I just mean, as an adult.
With my witty personality, and great “she’s so nice” look, it has been very easy to relate to others. I analyze every situation and possibility and I come out on top, 99% of the time. The missing 1% is for the parenting part. That shit is hard and my babies “wants” will always be on top of mine, therefore, 1% is everything revolving my babies.
Having these abilities, no one would ever know that I have major anxiety and depression.
My alarm goes off at 04:55 a.m. every morning.
I wake up.
I lay there.
I should be getting ready for work; my work day starts at 6:30 a.m.
But I linger.
“What do I wear? Do I want to be comfortable, professional or …. naked”
Sweater and jeans it is.
I arrive at work at 6:34 a.m. every morning.
Could I have made it on time? Sure. If I would have saved myself those 35 minutes and self-doubt and tears while I wait for the “5:30 a.m. get your ass up” alarm to go off.
I am suppose to take medication for the depression and anxiety but it slows me down. I got shit to do.
While at work, I smile so much it hurts my face. I have an infectious laugh that some would even consider magical because I can make anyone smile. It drains me so much.
I can not stay seated in my chair for more than 20 minutes at a time without randomly getting up and walking around the plant.
I have a desk job that requires me to get up maaaybbeee four times a day. Usually no times a day. My job is at my computer.
I counted the times I got up yesterday.
Unnecessary walking and roaming around the office.
When I get out of work, I make one stop to get my kids from daycare and parents’ house.
It’s back to business.
What bills need to be paid? What doctor appointments does dad need? Why did his life insurance premium go up?
45 minutes and everything and anything is answered and handled.
I wish I could just breathe.
The call me “Sergeant” there.
I just want to sleep.