I have a hang up. Well, I have several, but this post isn't about extreme organization or obsessive compulsive disorders that involve being depressed over the state of a Christmas tree because I let my daughter help hang ornaments and they're not in the right places. Wait...where am I? Oh, right, my hang up.
I have a constant, daily, hourly need to feel useful. It's definitely gotten more severe as I've gotten older, but lately it seems as though I'm not happy with myself if I'm not washing dishes, folding laundry, making dinner, or um...blogging? Sure, blogging. If I sit down to read a magazine with a cup of coffee my eyes just wash over the pages while my brain keeps making lists of all the things that need to be done. If I sit down to read a book and D comes out of the office I immediately start making excuses for why I'm sitting down. I know in my heart that he doesn't care if I sit down to take a break. As a matter of fact, and he's told me this multiple times, he likes to see me taking time out for myself. So why can't I do it with a clear conscience? No really, help me readers. Do other women feel this way, too? Do any of you feel unworthy if you're not bustling around the house until the kids are in bed? Do you sit down for a break only to start scanning the room for hidden projects? I seriously need to know if this is common (which I secretly believe) or if it's a neuroticism that only plagues me. Write back, let me know. I'll be in the kitchen doing the dishes, and prepping dinner, and making tomorrow's lunch and coffee, and ironing clothes.
ps. This is my favorite: