This weekend I realized that we/I had made a lot of plans with people. LOTS of plans. Plus, I ended up having to work on Saturday.
Still, I thought I would be able to take care of all the usual stuff [grocery runs, prepping food, laundry, ironing, dusting, cleaning, vacuuming, cleaning the kitchen and bathrooms] that usually gets taken care of during the week, plus the stuff I needed to take care of for this party I was corralled into helping throw.
And I would not ask for help, even though I worked 50 hours, because . . . because, god damn it, I would not. I am capable and a hard worker and . . . evidently an idiot who piles too much on my plate.
I hate to ask for help. And when the husband offers it? I hate to accept it. Even when other people offer it.
Because I make a plan and I stick with it and I CERTAINLY do not need anyone's help, thank you very much.
Until I get so fucking crazy that I start yelling about the smallest little thing. Like WHERE THE FUCK IS THE TAPE??? HUH??? I JUST BOUGHT TAPE WHERE IS IT WHY IS THERE NEVER ANY GOD DAMN TAPE???
I tell you this story to illustrate the level of stubborness and hardheadedness that I war with on a daily basis. A war between my super focused, must follow my plan demented self and my hmmm...why don't you think that over self. Do not tell me I can't do something. Do not tell me I should do something a different way, or not at all or with your help.
If I am in a mood when you tell me this? It will not end well for either of us. Or either of my parts of myself. Am I making sense? Is that heat vapor steaming up my vision?
Accepting help is a hard thing to do. But it makes life so much easier.