Don’t tell me not to get all worked up as this has the opposite effect on me.
Watching the kids
not working together to clean up after a meal is hazardous to my health and all of my senses.
Insisting that each kid take a night to do a chore on their own instead of collaborating with the sibling is met with resistance by 3 out of 4 people in this house.
It won’t be illness, accident or fortnite that will kill me. Repetition will kill me.
There is historical and anecdotal evidence that I’m right about most things. They haven’t caught on yet.
I love minimalism. They don’t. This does not make living harmonious for me.
Sharing my writing activities, plans, ambitions, results or opportunities with them has proven one thing to me: they’re not interested. That’s ok, because you are. ❤
I’m getting more comfortable with their discomforts and I’m not letting that inhibit me as much anymore.
When I write here or elsewhere I am an individual, not a person fulfilling an expectation or playing a role. I am simply me.
I’m beginning to slowly like me better.
The sun is a big, fat liar. There is no spring.