August 14, 2013

I am all about taking care of those I love. There is not a thing in this world that I would not do for my loved ones. I love to make big dinners and I love to make my husband breakfast before he leaves for work in the morning and I love having dinner hot and ready when he comes home. He always has a lunch packed every single day. I love when my kids come to my house and I get to cook for them. I even spill over to others and I give them the extra loaf of bread or a few muffins or cookies.

It isn’t just cooking, but that is a big part. I make sure that everyone has clean clothes, and there is always an extra can of shaving cream or bottle of soap. There is always extra diet coke in the house. There is always a clean and orderly house.

Obviously I love my family and take great care of them.

So why can’t I do this for myself? Why do I resist taking the pills at night that knock me out but help with the nerve pain. Why don’t I do the same for myself with food. Why can’t I make myself a simple but decent little meal when I am home alone? I will grab whatever I see … and usually it isn’t the best thing for me. I would never let my monkey eat the junk that I do. Instead of making enough eggs for two in the morning I make enough for Bill because I am not one to eat right out of bed… but when I DO get hungry I do not make myself eggs or the same thing I made for Bill… it isn’t really hard, scrambled eggs and toast. Instead I will grab a pop tart or a piece of bread and jelly about 10 or 11 when I am starving. I will grab a quick piece of bread and turkey.

I rotate the same few outfits, shorts and t-shirts because I figure I am not going anywhere important and I don’t want to wear something that I will destroy. Can you just see me scrubbing toilets or vacuuming in a dress … I may be a good house wife but I am not June cleaver or Donna reed. I don’t put on make up every day, again not going anywhere and really I have never been one to wear it much, only on dress up occasions.

So I have been wondering why I am not as important to ME as they are? I can tell myself the old adage… if you don’t take care of you then you can’t take care of them but I know that is simply not true. I have been proving it for years and years.

I think it goes back to a time with my mother when I always had to earn her attention and love. As long as I take care of them they will love me. How sad.

Plus it also goes to I am not worthy of their love and attention… again mother… she couldn’t love me just because I was me… I was always unworthy of her love.

*cry* I don’t have answers for any of this…. just a painful place I am exploring right now.


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