Why, oh why?

.
This post is not a rant, nor is it a whine, nor a boast. It is simply an examination of self. I am trying to figure out why it is that I do these things, and maybe writing about it will help. Or maybe you can see the why from your perspective. I am hoping that by figuring out the why, I can change my behavior. This happens too often for my own good.

Tuesday was a vexing day. I like that word because it sounds just like it was. VEXing. Annoying; distressing.

On my calendar I had a doctor's appointment. I won't go in to details, but it was an appointment to take care of something "female," related to my surgery in July. I anticipated that it would be, shall I say, unpleasant, but I wasn't entirely sure. The physician's assistant implied that I would be fine, even though the procedure is one normally done in the O.R. under light sedation. And, for reasons that are unimportant to my story, I was doing it in his office with a little lidocaine.

That information is irrelevant except to say that I had an inkling that this appointment should probably be the only thing I do all day, but I quashed that inkling.

So, flashing back a few days to how this day became what it became, over the weekend I spoke to college boy who expressed an interest in coming home to do laundry and eat dinner. He mentioned that Tuesday would be a good day since he was finished with class early. I made plans to pick him up at 3:30 and said either his dad or I would return him that evening. Dad thought the "fetching" was unnecessary and that college boy should do his laundry at school, but I didn't listen to dad; plans were set.

When Tuesday rolled around, I got up in morning, and we started school. I did some laundry. Doug came home from work at 11:30 so I could go, sans kids, to my appointment at noon. I arrived at the appointment, and after waiting in the doctor's office for about 20 minutes, I was escorted back for the procedure. Again, no details, but I will tell you that it involved a tool that looked very much like a harpoon gun (honestly) and it was excruciatingly painful. Well, maybe not excruciating, but it hurt pretty darn bad. My hands were shaking when I left, and I was hoping that the physician's assistant would undergo the same procedure darn soon, without the light sedation.

I wanted to go home, make a cup of tea and some toast, and put my feet up. But I didn't. I went home, took a pain pill for my crampy bladder, made a cup of tea and some toast, which I promptly let get cold, and started cookie dough because I was going to fetch college boy, and he could not go back to the dorm without a homemade treat. An hour later I got in the car, drove across town to fetch college boy and his laundry, then drove across town in the other direction to fetch the high school boy, and then drove across town in other direction to get home.

When I got home I really wanted a cup of tea and a nap, but instead I started college boy's laundry, peeled 7 pounds of potatoes for dinner (four of which ended up leftover), and finished baking the cookies. My mother then arrived to see college boy and have dinner, dad arrived home, and we sat down to eat. In the middle of dinner, I switched the laundry.

At 7 p.m., my mom went home, dad left to go exercise, and I showered Peach before we packed up college boy and the clean, but slightly damp clothes, to go back to the dorm. I dropped him off around 8 p.m. and arrived home about 30 minutes later. I don't need to tell you that I was completely exhausted. I could have cried. Unfortunately, I still had to help high school boy with his geometry. I made a cup of tea that I really intended to drink, and sat down at the kitchen table with the kid and the geometry book until 10 o'clock.

Now, it does not take a genius IQ to know that I overdid it, just a smidge. But why? I can say "no." Honest, I can. But why didn't I? Did I do this because I really want it all? Am I that greedy? All day long I placated myself by thinking, "I'll rest tomorrow," but really, I knew I wouldn't. And I didn't. I know some women keep up this pace all the time, but I can not. It is not healthy for my body or mind.

So, why, oh why do I continually do this? Any armchair therapists?



.