And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate… ~ Taylor Swift
A few minutes ago, I walked into my kitchen and imploded a bit. My shoulders hunched, I cupped my hands over my face, and I let out a hefty sigh.
I just cleaned this shit!
(In all honesty, a friend just helped me clean this shit which makes the vile reality of my messiness even more difficult to bear.)
I am exhausted. After a day at a job that is stressful yet no longer fulfilling, between an hour of driving, an hour of my son’s martial arts class, and an hour of homework, I fixed dinner tonight. I have a small galley kitchen that looks “lived in” with even a few dirty dishes strewn about. And, by “lived in,” I mean lived in by trolls who can’t seem to distinguish the difference between a corner and a toilet.
Cue the familiar paralyzing overwhelm and that ever-ready inner critic who is always eager to dub me a complete loser.