Had a lousy weekend. Even though I try my best to be ‘chipper’ about everything and look for a silver lining (however slim) on every cloud, this was one I’d rather write off to history. K’s dad ended up being rushed to hospital on Sunday morning after a fall and received an emergency blood transfusion. His carer found him and as K’s sister is on holiday in Spain, he is the only one in easy reach of Southampton. Not being one to wash my dirty linen in public (hmm, maybe that’s hypocrisy given my blog but what I mean is that I don’t go into stuff that does not need shared and does not relate to my challenge), we had a very stressful day.
K headed off to Southampton this afternoon, having put his ducks in a row at work, so all my thoughts and prayers are currently with him and his dad. It leaves me with some much needed breathing space, though, as I haven’t been alone much at all since K moved in last November. It’s only when it comes around that I am on my own at home, that I realise just how much I value my solitude from time to time. However, as soon as I get it I seem to go crazy, rather than putting my feet up and revelling in a long hot bath and my choice of music. Before K had even finalised plans to go down for the week, in my head I’d scheduled a run, loads of ironing, some cooking and a really good cleaning session in the living room. On a Monday and Tuesday evening, for God’s sake!!!!!!! It was then that I realised that I make my own stress, and am incapable of relaxing, which was one of the stress addict issues that I read last week. According to that, you are addicted if:
You feel guilty about relaxing and making time for yourself
So rather than digging out a book I’ve wanted to read, buying spa products or just making star shapes in a double bed (hee hee!), I have to fill the time he’s away constructively. Even more crazily, I actually considered cancelling the one person I am seeing this week on Wednesday, as it would be another eve on which I could do housework and run myself ragged!!! I’d love to say that tonight I will go home and have a relaxing and steady evening, and resist the urge to don my marigolds and hunt down my steam cleaner. Hell, no. In fact I popped a suit into the dry cleaners for him at lunch as it had been sat at home in a bag for 2 weeks. I couldn’t help myself. It’s like the major organisational side of me comes right out and the notion of being free to polish, tidy and work till I drop is too, too much to resist.
What drives me is the knowledge that a clean and tidy home makes me so, so happy. I am looking forward to standing in my wee kingdom and surveying the work I’ve done. Sure, I’ll be knackered and those books I haven’t read will still be gathering dust, but the question is, what brings me pleasure? If it’s the cleaning, then why not do it? If I am incapable of relaxing without surveying the room for jobs to be done, then I won’t relax, will I? God, it’s like a Catch 22 scenario and I’m none the wiser as to what to do to resolve it. K thinks I’m bonkers for asking for time to myself to clean. I can’t see what’s wrong with that as my choice of how to spend my time wisely and I do need the solitude for my sanity. K gets plenty of time alone as I tend to go out without him at least twice a week and he’s on flexi-time at work due to his eye troubles so frequently gets home mid-afternoon. I also pop out at weekends to see girlfriends and in general, I’m the one clawing the walls for some me-time. I have a job which is sociable and requires me to work for 3 people, all of whom have demands on my time. Sometimes being back in my flat with a pile of ironing and some crap TV and 3 hours of no-one else is utter, utter bliss.
However, I do need to question why I create such a maelstrom of activity for me to do when I am alone. Surely the answer would be a cleaning lady? Even on London wages it would be worth it if it gave me what I have now come to consider as truly free time, now I live with my beloved. Question is, can the control freak in me let that happen without spending hours cleaning and tidying before they arrive!!!
On the subject of not drinking, yesterday was the first truly traumatic time since my parents derailed my early attempt at sobriety. The wine was definitely beckoning as losing myself in a bottle of red would have felt like heaven. Forgetting all my stress and worry and blotting out the anxiety was never on the cards, though. I had to think about it and dismiss the idea, but it was no craving. It wasn’t even a mild lust, more of a fleeting thought. Progress. I can tackle life head on without reaching automatically for the nearest bottle. I suppose the test really comes tonight, the first time I am truly alone in 2 months. That’s when I can do as I wish and report what I like to the blog and the only person who knows better is me. Interesting…
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