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Friday 19 May 2017

Burning Out: Underneath The Filter

The Lurgy has entered the house. I woke up this morning, after an awful night's sleep, with a stuffy nose, a scratchy throat, aching joints and a pounding head. I was surprised at this as I've not been around anyone with a cold and I've been eating so well and exercising regularly that I thought my immunity would be a little stronger. So foul do I feel, that I felt something must have caused it and I looked back over my week trying to find the source of my misery. Only then did it occur to me that I might be taking on a little too much...

Working as a teacher I'm used to busy days and heavy workloads and countless marking and data deadlines. As Head of KS3 English, I constantly have a to do list longer than my arm and I rarely have a day that sees everything ticked off. Although I occasionally moan about my workload, I know I thrive in situations when stuff just needs to get done. I'm guilty of leaving things to the last minute because I know I can't procrastinate any more and I HAVE to finish a task. It's like I'm on my own Challenge Aneka episode only it's Challenge Jen and I'm competing with myself and time. The adrenaline is addictive and the pride at completing a task makes me feel like superwoman.

Being on maternity leave hasn't made me any more relaxed. Despite no longer having lessons to plan or essays to mark or data to review, I still give myself a huge workload...and I have to ask myself why I do this.

Take this week for instance. On Monday, I went to Mum and Baby group, completed a workout, went in to the local town to top up my grocery shop, even though I didn't need to. Tuesday I got up early to go running in the rain, took a shower and took Seb to Rhythm Time before racing home to have dinner before making the 4pm mum and baby showing of Beauty and the Beast. Wednesday saw a 10am Story Explorers class and a 12.45pm baby yoga class on opposite sides of the town and another browse around Tesco. Thursday? A particularly challenging day of a HIIT and weights session and a baby swim class all before midday followed by an hour's drive to York to have two work meetings before coming home to take Smeagol on an hour long birthday walk. On top of all this I do all the usual mum things: putting Seb down for routine naps, feeding him, dressing him, changing him, preparing bottles and meals, loading the dishwasher, cooking three healthy meals a day, doing laundry, tidying the house, walking the dog twice a day, showering, putting on make up, playing with Sebastian...food shopping. More? I meet up with friends for coffee, arrange play dates and clothes swaps, clear out my wardrobe and donate clothes to friends or charities, update this blog and instagram plus I'm doing the British Heart Foundation's My Marathon May.  It's no wonder that I'm starting to burn out a little.

Why though? Why do I do this? I frequently hear my friends ask how I manage to do so much - how do I find time to cook? To clean? Why am I so busy?

The classes with Seb I do because I think it's important for his development and because I can't stay in the house all day or I'd go crackers. They're as much for me as they are for him...plus I know that when I go back to work I'm never going to regret all the time we spent playing and learning together. But everything else can be neglected a little, surely? Even typing that makes me guffaw because I know I couldn't just neglect my tasks completely. I will always need to tidy and clean because I simply hate unorganised chaos. I deep need in me since childhood has to organise things or people. I think it's the same part of me that will always get a thrill at buying stationary. 

I've always been a bit of an overachiever. I'm not the smartest, quickest, prettiest or funniest. In fact I am distinctly average in every way and so I've always had to work hard. A fear of ignorance means I'm constantly reading and wanting to learn. If I don't know something, I have to 'read up' on it so that I know the answers. I feel proud when I receive compliments on my outfit, carefully selected in my mind the night before, even though I might only be going to the coffee shop. It's not about being the best; I'm not that shallow. It more like I want to be the best that I can be. 

But life is not a competition...and it's foolish to compete against yourself all the time. 

Looking at my instagram page, it's full of glossy, filtered pictures of home cooked, healthy meals, a smiling baby, a made up face and primped hair, motivating images of me working out. How pretty. How 'put together'.They're truthful images because yes, sometimes my life is pretty and put together, but it's not the whole truth. Sometimes, days like today happen.

Today I'm ill, grumpy, greasy and unmotivated. Today I haven't showered or put on make up or even changed out of my joggers and t-shirt which I slept in. I just put Military Man's hoodie over the top, because I'm missing him whilst he's away in Norway. Today, Seb and I have eaten a lovely breakfast of scrambled eggs and avocado, beautifully instagrammed....but I haven't washed the dishes, or unloaded the dishwasher from last night. I haven't dressed Seb - he's still in his pj's. His toys are strewn around the front room, the dog's muddy footprints pollute my usually clean kitchen floor...and it's ok for today. I'm cutting myself some slack. I have no workout plans nor am I leaving the house apart from the obligatory dog walks which I will do in the same clothes I'm wearing now.

Everyone puts pressure on themselves but I do think mum's add even more weight to the load because they have a little person that they feel they're letting down if they don't do something perfectly. This is silly. Not once has Sebastian looked at me this morning, in his avocado stained superman pyjamas, and frowned at me as if to say 'you're failing as a mother'. He gave me his usual gummy giggle and blew a raspberry, spraying me with unswallowed remnants of scrambled egg. Sebastian thinks I'm perfect. One day, this will change and no matter how hard I try, he'll still give me stony teenage glares that will unhinge me. One day, he'll think I'm a rubbish mum and in a fit of adolescent rage he might even say it. But for right now, Sebastian thinks I'm the most wonderful mummy in the world, complete with greasy hair and a messy kitchen. And today, that's the best that I can be.


J




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