I’m hoping writing instead of sitting in silence with my thoughts would be a better option. So, here I am, writing to you. I had a semi-productive day today – not as productive as the other people in this house, in some people’s eyes.

The day started early with arguing and screaming between Mikhail and Nick. It was the prime time of 7 o’clock in the morning and my intentions were to sleep in. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be able to happen. I got to scream at the boys while Mike was in the bathroom. I unwillingly went downstairs and decided I was up. Mike left to go to work and I was alone with the kids and the madness, but only for a short time.

He only had to unload a truck and then he was home, with Starbucks too. What a guy. I started cleaning. By 11 am, I had the majority of the downstairs pretty damn spotless (in my eyes). Mike had done a huge amount of stuff in the basement after I had told him about his mom’s comment from earlier. By 11:30, I was making lunch for everyone.

Now is where the guilt kicks in… Everyone went outside. They all had projects out there. I had shit I still wanted to do in the house so I did those. Which included going through Mikhail’s clothes. That’s what I had set out to do today so that’s what I was going to do. So, I did. I eventually finished up and made my way outside. Mike was knees deep in setting up the basketball hoop. His parents were shoveling and moving top soil that she had delivered the previous day. The boys were being big helpers, Mikhail especially. He was a little engine that could today. He just kept going and going. Nick took a lot of breaks and kept disappearing inside. They both did a lot more than anyone was expecting them to do, though. I finally grabbed a shovel and offered a small amount of help.

I don’t know this is where things get so funky… I do NOT ask if someone needs my help. I expect them to tell me or ask me to help them if they need it. I have never been one to offer my assistance. I don’t want to be in someone’s way or I don’t want to do something wrong. So, typically, if someone doesn’t ask for help, I don’t help them. That’s just how I operate. Well, people around here don’t seem to think they should have to ask for the help either… so it’s two-way endless road. This is also where I’m perceived as being lazy. Because I’m not an eager beaver to jump in and help. Fucking WHATEVER! I’ve been around for 11 years if people haven’t figured out this is how I operate then I guess they don’t need or want my help. It’s that simple. But then again, this is where I feel like a piece of shit for not being a bigger help to those around me.

Things died down and Mike went on to other projects he planned on doing once his friends arrived.

My only other duties included cooking dinner for everyone.

Mike’s mom asked how she should handle paying the boys for their services. I said secretly give Mikhail more because he did a much better job but tell him it is to stay in between her and him. Nick would put up a big fuss had he known that they got different amounts even though Mikhail worked his tail end off. Everyone saw Mikhail work his ass off. He deserved more money for doing it. I’m sorry Nick, but life just isn’t fair like that sometimes. You don’t put forth the work, you don’t get rewarded the same as someone who worked harder.

I got the boys all situated and they ate and had S’mores. I got the older boys all fed too. Everyone complimented me on the food and I felt pretty good about that.

Then it was time to have drinks, sit around outside, and talk. That’s when my anxiety kicked in. I started talking and realize I only talk about the kids. That is the only contribution I ever have to the conversation is saying something about the kids. THEY DON’T GIVE A FUCK! I said a few things and then decided I had enough with my own shit and came inside the house. Yes, I said that correctly… *I* had enough of my own shit and decided enough was enough and I cut myself off from talking to people and came inside to be quiet and stop annoying people with my bull shit.

Social anxiety, man. That’s the kind of anxiety that I have. It’s horrible.

Then again, I have nothing to offer to people. I can’t say anything in a conversation that isn’t about my damn kids. I’m not smart enough to contribute anything educated.

Eh, whatever. I’m over it. I’m pretty exhausted. How Mike is still going is beyond me. I’m ready to call it a night, so night.

written on at 11:02 pm || Filed under: Anxiety, Home/Cooking

2 Responses to “Blogging Therapy”

  1. I don’t see that you don’t do enough, seriously! Give yourself a break. And that conversational thing…ugh, I’m always thinking “Why did I say such a stupid thing, nobody wants to hear that!” That just happened at the NRA banquet, I actually saw the eyes of the guy I was talking to glaze over. I’m all the time telling myself “Just keep your mouth shut.” Then next thing I know I’m saying something stupid again. I’d bet if you didn’t have your Ambien you’d keep yourself up all night going over every word you said to anybody that day – I do!

    • Nikkole says:

      Pretty much… without Ambien instantly knocking me out, my mind races with every part of all conversations I had throughout the day. It’s pretty gruesome and tireless. I totally understand how you feel about saying something and seeing the person either just *nod* in acceptance of my stupidity or just say ‘uh huh’ to be polite. I do that all the time. I say something and go “Now, why did you say that?! How stupid can you be?! No one wants to hear about that, just shut up, and keep it to yourself.”

      The problem with this night was that I came inside around 9:30 pm and the guys were outside until around 11:30pm so I had the entire two hours to sit alone with my thoughts and nonsense of going over every thing I said… This continued on Sunday throughout the day.

      Sometimes, it’s lonely, but often times it’s so much easier to be a loner and not converse with people then beat myself up, ya know? I’m always so back and forth about it. I miss having friends and people to talk to and having people to call ‘my own’ and such but in another sense, I hate beating myself up for DAYS thinking about the things I said or did. Ugh!

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