I have to admit something.
Actually, I admit a lot of things because I am self-indulgent and enjoy analyzing myself. Why? Maybe because I’m the youngest child, or maybe because I’m wrapped up in myself, or maybe because…I’m bored.
I know that sounds impossible because I have an almost two-year old daughter who is incredibly opinionated, yet sweet, and tons of fun. How could I be bored? She exhausts me.
I guess my mind just doesn’t stop. Ever. I sleep thankfully, maybe because I tire myself out enough during the day, but I find other people to be too slow. When I watch my husband I sometimes wonder,”How does he get anything done?” I find myself shaking my leg while waiting for him to get going sometimes.
I don’t have ADHD–and I am not manic. Those are two things I can guarantee (definitely not manic and way too focused/able to carry out long tasks to be hyperactive, and yes, I can have a professional vouch for me), but I wonder why I am so wired for speed, so to speak. I don’t even drink coffee.
My wise friend Liz suggested that I might be one of those intelligent people who just gets bored easily. Even when my daughter was a newborn, (about past week 6) I started getting up and out of the house with her even when I wasn’t working. It’s like I feel as if I need to be somewhere, doing something.
There are a few times in my life when my need to go, go, go were squelched:
As a student, tutor, and teacher, I didn’t have time to busy myself. Hmm. I was too busy. I was going all the time, and so I didn’t have time to be bored.
I couldn’t be bored because I was tired and trying to not get my nipples mauled off in those early stages of nursing. By the way, my nipples are just fine, thanks. When I wasn’t tired, I was eating like a football player. I ate like a quarterback for the first year of my daughter’s life, thanks to nursing and hell, I didn’t gain weight (kill me. I might not be pretty, but I’m skinny).
I was too sick to be bored because I felt like death. Early pregnancy=felt like death.
That’s a pathetic three times in my life in which I can remember not being stir-crazy. People suggest yoga to mellow me out (but I found it to be, gasp, too slow). I have tried acupuncture–which helped relieve worry, but didn’t slow me down. I don’t think I’m wired to be mellow.
My father is of a ripe good age, ( I won’t say old because he would disown me and I need someone to be responsible for my neuroses) and that man cannot sit still either. I can read a book of course and write, but unless I am active or exhausted, I am going.
I wonder what it is in our brain chemistry that has us wired so rapidly. I feel I have no choice but to go with it. I’m energetic. High-strung. Fun. Intelligent. Crazy. Whatever works for you.
So for 2013 I have decided to feed my brain. It is hungry. Write. Perform. Work. Parent. Hobbies. Expand.
My one fear is that my energy level might overwhelm my kid. I guess anyone can speculate that his or her energy level might affect his/her kid. A lethargic person might create a slowpoke. A morose lad might make a wee sad toddler. A hyperactive person might make his kid crazy.
My daughter doesn’t seem nuts yet, so I couldn’t have done too much damage. She’s happy, fairly mellow albeit in a bossy stage, and energetic–not like me exactly although it’s too early to tell, but spirited. Hopefully I will inspire her to go for what she wants and not hold back, rather than exhaust her myself.
I wonder if other people worry that their flaws or traits will impact their children?
I know I drive my husband a bit nuts. I tell him I should have a few husbands, just to keep myself busy. Somehow, he doesn’t find this acceptable. I am not sure why…it would relieve him of me for awhile, but I digress. I know he sometimes finds watching me rather tiring. You could say he’s a bit sluggish at times.
I’ve had resolutions to calm or mellow out, and it never works. I’m not a spazz–I can follow a long conversation and even read a 19th century Russian novel without twitching like a meth addict, but I just find being too mellow for too long, dull. That’s why I have mellow friends, so they can act as a homeopathic drug of sorts. There’s nothing better than the soothing voice of a..
Oh, what was I saying? I’m doing something else while we speak…