Yuck. I hate the feeling of knowing you are returning back to reality. Reality always seems so heavy! I feel like it weighs on my shoulders like a thousand pounds. There are feelings of dread, knowing that I’m heading back to the cold, frigid, unpredictable hell hole they call Chicago, with a side order of “back to business as usual,” topped of with a case of feeling “overworked and underpaid, overtaxed and underappreciated.” Back to the reality where no matter what time I wake up in the morning, and how much I get done each day, it’s never enough, and it’s never GOOD enough.
There is always someone in line waiting to take a number to complain about something I did (or didn’t) do. Always someone looking to push the blame or responsibility on me because they don’t want the responsibility themselves. Yup, the curse of being the responsible one. (Although, whomever made the certifiably crazy woman the responsible one is another issue to explore, but nonetheless, I am the one that seems to take the blame, take the heat, take the orders, and make sure that I am in 3,000 places at once doing 3,000 different things, none of which are for myself or will benefit me.)
Just because I’m bipolar doesn’t mean that there are TWO of ME! Thanks.
The thought of boarding that plane today makes me physically ill. I almost feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t want to shoulder any more! I want to do things that make ME happy for once and I want those around me to BE happy for me. I often wonder why that is so impossible. Why is it so impossible for people to follow through on their own projects instead of leaving me to clean it all up, or involving me in it and committing me to things that I have no interest in doing! (Then making me feel like a horrible human for not being interested in it and not helping them out)
While I have gotten very little of any of the things I wanted to accomplish actually done this vacation, I did get reminded constantly of double standards, that nothing I can ever say or do will be right, and if I am not entertaining 100% of the time, then I’m boring. Apparently my hopes for a relaxing and stress free vacation were clearly not the correct expectation for vacation. Which, sadly means time for rest or rejuvenation is not in the cards for me.
Maybe one day it will, but right now, getting on that plane to go back to Chicago and the daily grind has me feeling like the walls are closing in on me, while spinning around, and sinking into quicksand of the beaches of St. Thomas…