So I had me a realization on Saturday.
I spent Saturday morning taking apart the Tupperware cabinet. I got rid of something like a third of our Tupperware--the first step in a slow remodel of the apartment to make it more functional, prettier, and more space-efficient. By the end of the process, I was super tense and depressed. I wanted to feel accomplished and proud of starting a new project, but instead I just felt like a failure. The fact that I had to start the project at all was proof enough. I felt like it was clear I would never be a successful adult--I couldn't even keep my house clean and organized. If I was mature enough, successful enough, worthy enough, I would have a spotless, beautiful house. Instead, I lived in a frat house. There were no pictures on the walls, the cabinets were poorly organized, the craft table looked like a fabric monster had exploded on it, and there was hair around the bathroom sink. I was a failure.
Yeah. This is what my brain does sometimes. And of course, it always sneaks up on me and pounces, so by the time I realize I'm upset, I'm so mired in the negativity it feels like there's fifty pounds of wet sand keeping me from touching anything else. I have to go through the negative wash before I can reason out where it comes from.
This isn't the first time something like this has come up. A couple of weeks ago, I was looking at the apartment and thinking about how I managed my time around the house and got really blue kind of out of nowhere, all out of proportion to the actual situation. Clearly something was going on subconsciously that was affecting my reactions to the situation.
So Nate and I got in the shower, he hugged me and reassured me that I was actually doing just fine, and sent me off to a friend's baby shower with strict instructions to "Have. FUN."
And dammit, I was going to have fun. I spent some of the car ride cheering myself up. I was going to see my friends, snuggle one friend's shiny new baby, get to catch up with a lot of folks I don't get to see enough, and all this shit was in my head. It was my perspective on the situation that was the problem, not the situation itself--there was no reason to be so upset about something I was working on fixing.
So I left the bullshit behind, I went to the baby shower and had an awesome time, and called Nate to let him know I was driving home. We were chatting and I said something like "I think I'm putting additional pressure on myself to be a successful adult because we're going to get married."
Whoa. Revelation. I do this sometimes--I'm a verbal processor, so I occasionally (read: ALWAYS) have major personal realizations after hearing them come out of my mouth. It's like having Tourette's, but more productive.
So I had a think about that and figured yeah, there's some part of my brain that expects me to Have My Shit Together in a major way before we get hitched. Not just to be able to dress myself and maintain a job and take care of myself emotionally (all of which I manage with varying levels of success on a daily basis), but to be... what? a homemaker? a personal trainer? Martha Stewart? Something.
It's like this post from Hyperbole and A Half. Somewhere in my head, there's a little dog sitting there, quaking.
And this is a creepy non-feminist part of myself. I've never heard from it before. It's not that I want to give up all my current activities and resign myself to a life of Jell-O molds, bundt pans, and sensible indoor heels, but it's like I suddenly have massive, unexpected guilt for not providing a nice enough household for... someone. Nate. Myself. Our regular dinner guests (nonexistent). Our dozens of future children. Someone.
Now, I pretty much always have massive guilt for something. But this is so unexpected, so out of the blue, I don't know what it's really about. I think I feel inadequate--like Nate does so many things for me and is such a wonderful person in general, how can I possibly measure up?
I mean, I realize that part of the reason we're getting married is because we're committing to keep growing together, not to metamorphose into these perfectly transcendent Buddhalike people that are both eminently accomplished individuals and a great team as soon as our legal status changes. So why do I have this insecurity?
It's not that I'm questioning why he's with me, because I recognize why we work well together and complement each other as partners, but I guess part of me feels like deep down on the inside, I'm getting the better half of the deal. And I'm not sure how to deal with that.I can handle the desire to do new projects and improve the lifestyle, sure, but I'm not sure how to handle the underlying feelings of inadequacy, or even why they're there. That's something else I'm going to have to think about. :/
I spent Saturday morning taking apart the Tupperware cabinet. I got rid of something like a third of our Tupperware--the first step in a slow remodel of the apartment to make it more functional, prettier, and more space-efficient. By the end of the process, I was super tense and depressed. I wanted to feel accomplished and proud of starting a new project, but instead I just felt like a failure. The fact that I had to start the project at all was proof enough. I felt like it was clear I would never be a successful adult--I couldn't even keep my house clean and organized. If I was mature enough, successful enough, worthy enough, I would have a spotless, beautiful house. Instead, I lived in a frat house. There were no pictures on the walls, the cabinets were poorly organized, the craft table looked like a fabric monster had exploded on it, and there was hair around the bathroom sink. I was a failure.
Yeah. This is what my brain does sometimes. And of course, it always sneaks up on me and pounces, so by the time I realize I'm upset, I'm so mired in the negativity it feels like there's fifty pounds of wet sand keeping me from touching anything else. I have to go through the negative wash before I can reason out where it comes from.
This isn't the first time something like this has come up. A couple of weeks ago, I was looking at the apartment and thinking about how I managed my time around the house and got really blue kind of out of nowhere, all out of proportion to the actual situation. Clearly something was going on subconsciously that was affecting my reactions to the situation.
So Nate and I got in the shower, he hugged me and reassured me that I was actually doing just fine, and sent me off to a friend's baby shower with strict instructions to "Have. FUN."
And dammit, I was going to have fun. I spent some of the car ride cheering myself up. I was going to see my friends, snuggle one friend's shiny new baby, get to catch up with a lot of folks I don't get to see enough, and all this shit was in my head. It was my perspective on the situation that was the problem, not the situation itself--there was no reason to be so upset about something I was working on fixing.
So I left the bullshit behind, I went to the baby shower and had an awesome time, and called Nate to let him know I was driving home. We were chatting and I said something like "I think I'm putting additional pressure on myself to be a successful adult because we're going to get married."
Whoa. Revelation. I do this sometimes--I'm a verbal processor, so I occasionally (read: ALWAYS) have major personal realizations after hearing them come out of my mouth. It's like having Tourette's, but more productive.
So I had a think about that and figured yeah, there's some part of my brain that expects me to Have My Shit Together in a major way before we get hitched. Not just to be able to dress myself and maintain a job and take care of myself emotionally (all of which I manage with varying levels of success on a daily basis), but to be... what? a homemaker? a personal trainer? Martha Stewart? Something.
It's like this post from Hyperbole and A Half. Somewhere in my head, there's a little dog sitting there, quaking.
Only she's thinking I can be a good wife! A good wife like you wanted!
And this is a creepy non-feminist part of myself. I've never heard from it before. It's not that I want to give up all my current activities and resign myself to a life of Jell-O molds, bundt pans, and sensible indoor heels, but it's like I suddenly have massive, unexpected guilt for not providing a nice enough household for... someone. Nate. Myself. Our regular dinner guests (nonexistent). Our dozens of future children. Someone.
Now, I pretty much always have massive guilt for something. But this is so unexpected, so out of the blue, I don't know what it's really about. I think I feel inadequate--like Nate does so many things for me and is such a wonderful person in general, how can I possibly measure up?
I mean, I realize that part of the reason we're getting married is because we're committing to keep growing together, not to metamorphose into these perfectly transcendent Buddhalike people that are both eminently accomplished individuals and a great team as soon as our legal status changes. So why do I have this insecurity?
It's not that I'm questioning why he's with me, because I recognize why we work well together and complement each other as partners, but I guess part of me feels like deep down on the inside, I'm getting the better half of the deal. And I'm not sure how to deal with that.I can handle the desire to do new projects and improve the lifestyle, sure, but I'm not sure how to handle the underlying feelings of inadequacy, or even why they're there. That's something else I'm going to have to think about. :/
I also get inadequacy feelings, particularly about housewifey stuff. Even though I have no desire to be a full-time housewife/stay-at-home mom, there's a part of me that still feels like I should have a spotless home, dinner on the table when my husband gets home, etc. Generally that part shuts up for a little while when I actually do some housecleaning. I wrote a list today of all the things I accomplished--even though it wasn't everything I'd intended--and just seeing things written out made me feel better. : )
ReplyDeleteI don't particularly want to be a housewife either, but I think that's in large part because we don't have kids--it's very possible that I'll want to take a few years off work after we spawn to raise the tiny. It's so funny that I'm having these particular inadequacy issues now, rather than immediately after we moved in together or as a reaction to pre-pregnancy insanity of some kind. :/
ReplyDeleteThat's what makes me think there's something else going on with me psychologically, like inadequacy issues or some shit--my parents didn't raise me to be Martha Stewart, damn it, so I shouldn't feel guilty about not being her just because we're engaged now.