I woke hard this morning. It’s the first day back from Christmas break, and predictably, I fell into the habit of staying up half the night and sleeping in. It doesn’t help that Mars gets up exactly an hour before me, disrupting that last precious hour.
Nor does it help that both kids got up when I did, apparently excited to return to school, so I lost my thirty minutes of solitary waking up time.
Nor does it help that I’ve had a headache for five days, and a sour stomach for three days straight and now I’m worrying that I might have an ulcer.
Get it? Worrying about an ulcer. That was a joke. Or a feeble attempt at one anyway. Never mind … I’ll return you to your regularly scheduled programming.
It also doesn’t help that I’m dealing with a couple of serious crises with extended family that will probably splinter my family of origin, nor that I’m still trying to crawl out of the dark well of depression I’ve been in since our move to Canada turned so disastrous two-plus years ago.
I swear, the only thing that got me out of bed was knowing that if I pushed myself through the first two hours, I’d have seven glorious hours alone.
I sat at the computer with my cup of coffee, and one of the first things I saw was an article called “The Bully Too Close to Home.”
It broke my heart. I could sooo feel for that poor little girl, whose mother was constantly criticizing her.
I could feel for the mother too. I don’t think I do that to my kids (The Animator assured me I don’t — but then admitted he probably wouldn’t tell me if I did), but I know I do it to myself.
Yes. I bully myself.
I send a constant barrage of internal criticism — and ironically, one of the heaviest hammers I’ve been swinging recently is criticism about how negative I am toward myself.
It needs to stop. I need to stop the abuse I’m giving myself.
I really like Hands Free Mama‘s tactic to say (out loud or silently), “Stop!” I think I’ll try it.
If I ever progress past the first step, I might also try Seven Steps to Being Less Hard on Our Kids. I suspect the steps will work even if it’s not my kids I’m being hard on.
As I sipped my coffee and read the articles, I realized I had an ear worm playing in my head.
Ironically again (yeah, I lead an ironic life), just last night I had a conversation with Mars about ear worms. He said, “Don’t you always have a song playing in your head?”
I don’t actually. I mean, I often do, but not constantly. Apparently for him it’s non-stop — and sometimes they’re brutal! I’m mercifully not mentioning specifics. You’re welcome.
Anyway, I woke this morning with a song playing in my head. Obviously, Fate (or God/Goddess/Great Spirit/Whoever-the-heck-is-in-Charge) and my own subconscious were trying to tell me something.
The song was Clouds by Zach Sobiech. It doesn’t get more upbeat than this — and he was dealing with something a heck of lot harder than anything in my life.
Well, I fell down, down, down
Into this dark and lonely hole.
There was no one there to care about me anymore.
And I needed a way to climb and grab a hold of the edge.
You were sitting there holding a rope
And we’ll go up, up, up,
But I’ll fly a little higher.
We’ll go up in the clouds because the view is a little nicer.
Up here my dear.
It won’t be long now, it won’t be long now.
I can’t think of a better way to start the day.