Exhausted

I wrote this about 3 years ago:

 

I had visitors this week, well for like 4 days and 3 nights anyways. They left this morning.
Oohhhh man do I hate having people in my house, especially for a long time! I am so worn out, tired, strung out, and a little depressed.

It was just supposed to be my friend (lets call her Sarah) and one other friend (lets call her Angie) who are basically my only two RL female friends. But Sarah decided to bring her boyfriend last minute (Rob, lets say). Okay, fine, I get along with men better than women and they have been together for a while now. But surprise surprise, they showed up with a friend (Dave) of the boyfriend as well. Without any warning.

When I saw 4 people get out of the car, and one a stranger, my social anxiety went through the roof. OMG is my house clean enough? Do I have enough sleeping space? Blankets? Towels? How do I explain the broken toilet or the shower with ****ty water pressure? Or my broken down truck, or my dog that is afraid of strange men due to the abuse she suffered before I rescued her, or the litter of puppies in the pantry/herb room?? aaaaaaahhhhhh!!!

Then just as I’m standing there with a fake smile frozen on my face and my heart pounding, Sarah whisperers in my ear “I brought Dave because you guys are sooo perfect for each other, I just know you’re going to hit it off!”

Oh no no no no no no! Please gods no. 4 days spent being stared at by my friends as they try to force me into this relationship with a strange man I know nothing about, who is in my house and I can’t escape because I have to be hostess???

Yeah well Dave is a total NTer, and Mr.GQ perfectly groomed in a cashmere sweater. I didn’t know men wore cashmere sweaters. Im afraid to own something like that because I’d destroy it! But the girls were so sure we’d hit it off because we are both pagan and artistic. Whatever, this guy is a total city mouse. The whole “welcome to the farm, hope you brought grubbies and keep your shoes on” did NOT impress him. Ugh.

I have spent the last few days desperately trying to explain away the bit of clutter in my home, how a farm is always messy and muddy, about raising and rescuing dogs, knee deep snow, why I can’t fix my toilet or afford to fix my truck etc etc. All while trying to be a good hostess and make meals while keeping the kitchen clean and so on and so forth.

I had expected a nice, laid back hang with the girl not having to shower, shave, and be well dressed, hair done and do my makeup every day!!!

If I had blown this guy off right away my friends would be insulted and upset, and I’d have a sulky man in my house, so I had to smile and try to be pretty and not be a clutz and … oh yeah, did I mention I tripped over my own feet, thus stubbing my toe and breaking it all while falling flat on my face and earning laughter from everyone as I fight back tears of pain and humiliation?! Argh

Have I mentioned I am still healing a broken hand as well?

Be witty, be funny, be pretty, don’t burn dinner, don’t leave things on the kitchen table, make your bed, do laundry, clean up after dogs, smile, smile, smile, flirt and laugh. Tell a joke, follow conversation, no wrinkles, comb your hair, and don’t spill anything on anyone.

Im so tired, so worn out, so high strung. I just want to curl up and cry for the next three days. Happy New Year!

Yes, most days I am high functioning … for an ADHDer, but never ever will I be able to keep up with the expectations of a man in a cashmere sweater!

I feel messy, sloppy, disorganized and gross today.

I feel hopeless today.

So I flattered and smiled and desperately tried to figure out how to lose this guys interest without doing something that will come back through the rumour mill to haunt me, or will hurt friendships with the few people I have in my life.

I’m a good friend to men, but I am bad when I am actually interested in one. I make the one major mistake a woman must never make. I pursue. I simply cannot sit and simper, play hard to get, act disinterested, let him come to me. I am not that girl. I have had a hard life and thus I am a fighter. I fight, I lead, I take charge, I pursue, I don’t lay down, I don’t wait for rescue. And when it comes to getting the guy, finding Mr. Right I lose. Lose, lose, lose, lose. I scare them away by being to confident, “arrogant”, honest, open, and by being to forward, impulsive and “making inappropriate comments”. I am somewhat hypersexual and I will say things at the wrong time, too soon, and it comes across as slutty, though I am not and never have been promiscuous. How can a girl be a **** when she chases men away just by showing she likes them?

But this week that worked to my advantage, I chose to be myself, and it worked. Like most men, he was scared off by a woman people refer to as “The unstoppable force and unmoveable object at the same time”

I hope I did it alright, I hope I didn’t insult my friends. They smiled as they left. But people can be so false, they smile and it’s a lie. And its so hard to tell.

I am grateful to my friends for trying. They know how lonely I am. How much I long for a man in my life, a partner in crime. They were sweet to try.

There are somethings where I am high functioning, but not this week, oh gods.

I hurt today.

Happy New Year.

RIP

Next time you start to scream at your ADHDer for not doing the dishes or being random in conversation … think long and hard about the fact that people with neurological disorders and mental illness have a higher suicide rate. Huh, the dishes suddenly don’t matter so much now, do they?

Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say,
I make you feel dizzy.
Of a little headache then,
why do you worry?
You say, I am your antelope.
Of seeing a lion here and there
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say, I am your moon-faced beauty.
Of the cycles of the moon and
passing of the years,
why do you worry?
You say, I am your source of passion,
I excite you.
Of playing into the Devils hand,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Look at yourself,
what you have become.
You are now a field of sugar canes,
why show that sour face to me?
You have tamed the
winged horse of Love.
Of a death of a donkey,
why do you worry?
You say that I keep you warm inside.
Then why this cold sigh?
You have gone to the roof of heavens.
Of this world of dust, why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
Since you met me,
you have become a master singer,
and are now a skilled wrangler,
you can untangle any knot.
Of life’s little leash
why do you worry?
Your arms are heavy
with treasures of all kinds.
About poverty,
why do you worry?
You are Joseph,
beautiful, strong,
steadfast in your belief,
all of Egypt has become drunk
because of you.
Of those who are blind to your beauty,
and deaf to your songs,
why do you worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You say that your housemate is the
Heart of Love,
she is your best friend.
You say that you are the heat of
the oven of every Lover.
You say that you are the servant of
Ali’s magical sword, Zolfaghar.
Of any little dagger
why do you still worry?
Oh soul,
you worry too much.
You have seen your own strength.
You have seen your own beauty.
You have seen your golden wings.
Of anything less,
why do you worry?
You are in truth
the soul, of the soul, of the soul.
You are the security,
the shelter of the spirit of Lovers.
Oh the sultan of sultans,
of any other king,
why do you worry?
Be silent, like a fish,
and go into that pleasant sea.
You are in deep waters now,
of life’s blazing fire.
Why do you worry?

~ Rumi

How Crochet Was Invented

I always thought that crochet was invented by an ADD woman, being one myself.

Once upon a time, long ago, probably in France, a woman with undiagnosed Attention Deficit Disorder was puttering around her cottage. Doing much but getting nothing done, of course.

In fact she was very busily working hard at trying to find the key to her chest full of yarn (and other odds and ends that had found their way into the chest). She tore the whole cottage apart and simply couldn’t find it anywhere. She did, however, find one of her long lost knitting needles in the process.

Distracted by the find, she looked about for the other kitting needle. Alas she couldn’t find that either. )For the record, the key to the chest had wandered off to the barn and the other knitting needle was out in the garden having spent part of the summer holding up a young bean stalk.)

Suddenly remembering what she had been doing a few minutes before, our heroine return to her chest. Using whatever she happened to have in her hand, the single knitting needle, she was able to pry open the chest. Happily she dug through the disorganized tangle of yarn within. Unhappily, it seemed as though all her other knitting needles had also vanished (who know where they wound up) and the last remaining one was now bent at one end.

Thinking she ought to run to the market to buy more needles before winter came, and perhaps a few other items as well, she threw on her cloak and walked out the door. Into a snow storm! Oh no, winter had started and she hadn’t gotten around to knitting warm woolly socks for her family yet!

Somewhat panicked, our heroine went back inside her home and paced about. Her husband and sons would return from the fields soon and be very cold, when they found that she still hadn’t made them socks to keep their feet warm she would be berated and hollered at for certain.

So she took up her single, bent, needle and started to desperately mess around with her wool. After much cursing and swearing, and putting that creative, think-outside-the-box, mind to work she invented the art of crochet!
The End