It’s a funny thing. It has its own rules, moves in whatever way it wants, can be held back and urged on by no one. On days like today, it seems to exist on multiple planes, like a complex system of gears of different sizes, each one with its own unique number of rotations per unit of time that passes. I see myself as a wee stick figure running along the cogs, jumping to the next gear when the rotation comes to its end so I don’t get squooshed. My leisure time always feels like the tiniest one, moving so quickly it’s barely started turning before it’s at the end of the line and I have to jump onto the giant housework gear, for example. I’m not sure how to reassign these pieces of my life so that the hours don’t stretch before me when I’m faced with something either tedious or exceptionally difficult, and that the moments that should bring me joy are more than just that – fleeting moments I feel I have to abandon to avoid a squooshing.
One thing I realized today is that I have a strong need to nurture, and I am almost frantically casting about for Â ways to fill that need. I almost bought a few small plants on a whim tonight, but was overwhelmed by options and unsure about the right things to get and do and didn’t want to adopt these poor plants and then bring them home and be afraid of them, so I put them back and will try again when I have done some research and am better prepared. Instead, I bought a few things for the Wii that Joshua has asked about or that I’ve noticed he enjoys when he’s watching his Chuggaaconroy videos and surprised him with a bag of lil goodies after his outing to the teen after-hours event. We played Mario Party for a bit when we got home, and while it may not have been the type of love and care I miss giving, it was a kind he absorbed and appreciated, and that’s a good thing. And if playing video games with my brother can give me just enough fulfillment that I stop feeling a twinge every time I see a baby creature of any species, then that is also a good thing, because I’m starting to roll my eyes at myself. More often than usual.