I’m an energetic kind of person. Always rushing around, always doing stuff, never sitting down. I’m very far from lazy. But right now, I’m feeling demotivated.
There are only four things I want to do with my time at the moment: writing; reading; running and dancing.
For a lot of people, that might sound like pretty motivated. These are not exactly all-day drinking, shooting up heroin and never getting out of bed. In terms of being de-motivated, the things I want to do are probably pretty healthy – physically and mentally. Doing those things helps me to relax and helps me to be a better parent and more supportive to my children. When they get home I’m ready to help them with their homework or whizz them off to Cubs, Scouts, Rainbows or dancing.
But it doesn’t get the housework done.
These are the things I don’t want to do. Even thinking about them just seems impossible sometimes:
- Emptying the dishwasher
- Clearing up the breakfast things
- Making the packed lunches
- Packing (and unpacking) for Scout camp
- Sorting out school bags
- Signing endless school letters
- Preparing for my job interview next week
- Sorting out the recycling
- Changing the beds
But these are the things that prove I am a good parent and a good wife and justify me having two days a week when I don’t work. It makes sense that the person who works slightly less than three days a week should have to do the bulk of these jobs rather than the one who works every hour God sends. It’s just a shame that the person who works just under three days a week somehow skipped the domesticity gene.
I moan about the jobs, but I do them. And guess what? I feel better afterwards.
The house is a better place with an empty dishwasher, no dishes on the side and a clean carpet.
I start work on my job interview and I am buzzing. I am full of ideas. I think they are good ones. I can justify them. I can use my own experiences, both in my current job and even in my blogging (see! knew it would come in useful on e day) to come up with some good examples and arguments. I’m going to take on that interview and maybe, just maybe, I will win.
So I can’t run and read and write in one day. But maybe I can do one or two of them. And maybe I can do one or two the next day.
The people that matter to me don’t care about my blogging or what I’m reading. They care to a certain extent about my running and to a lesser extent about my dancing.
They care about me being a good wife, a good mother and a good daughter. For them that is demonstrated through a clean house and organised school bags, not a brilliantly written blog, being the first to finish JK Rowling’s A Casual Vacancy (I won’t be the first to finish it, I haven’t even started it yet), a fast half marathon or being right at the front in my next dance show.
So I have to push my demotivation to one side and motivate myself to do the things I don’t want to do.
But however hard I try, I will never EVER feel anything other than murderous hatred for changing beds.