It's possible that the slightly manic phases that I have in which I actually do what I'm supposed to do, including shower, dress, check the mail, fertilize the garden, bake, knit, write, etc., are not a sign of impending mental illness, but are the self-actualization of what I thought this stay-at-home business would really be like.
Is that even possible?
I struggled and struggled, trying to find balance and peace. And couldn't, so therefore, I immediately deemed myself a failure. But lo, after 14 months, a glimmer of light. Balance is for sissies. The only times I've felt really committed and kick-ass at this thing is when I've run myself ragged either in the house or the yard or the world beyond. I KNOW - sounds crazy, right? But there's something so seductive about crossing something off the to-do list. And even more seductive is crossing off more things.
What that should tell you is that moms who work full time AND do this shit are superhuman. And by that I mean super from the Latin meaning over and above. How did I ever do it? How? The answer is, I didn't. I was exhausted. And all my plants were dead. And we ate at Sonic four days a week. But it was the best I could do.
I'm still doing the best I can. And I still miss teaching -- a lot. And I'm still exhausted. I'm just kicking ass in a different kind classroom.
And I'm good with that.
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