this sucks and it’s really hard. let’s do it anyway.

My dear friend Lisa, she of the “hey, you should start blogging again,” helped me find the theme for my yoga class. After the fact. That happens sometimes.

The purported theme was “extending the body from the core, with an emphasis on the connection between the belly and the heel.” The underlying theme turned out to be, “this sucks and it’s really hard. let’s do it anyway.”

As is generally the case, my classes have some spillover from my life, which I think is a generally good thing. It helps me teach with “Authentic Authority.” Whatever the hell that is. Sadly for my students, or maybe just sadly for me, my life sucks and is really hard right now. So that’s what’s spilling over. Lisa identified it thusly, “you’re really good at just getting up and going. You keep moving even when you don’t want to.” Or something to that effect. And she’s right. I am good at that. Thank God!

The truth is, I’m afraid that if I do what I want, I will crawl into bed with some type of mind-numbing drug (or more likely – honestly – several types), and consume them and then I’ll cover my entire body with the sheets and blankets and I’ll make myself into a loose, amorphous blob so that it doesn’t even really look like there is someone in the bed,  and then I’ll pass out. And then I’ll absolutely refuse to regain consciousness until:

  • The house is organized again. The whole house. Every single room. Including the furnace room. Which is virtually NEVER organized.
  • The whole house is clean. Including the walls and the trim. And the floors. Even the parts underneath things, and under the edge of the kitchen cabinets, which let’s face it, are NEVER clean.
  • And my two wonderful, lovely children are fully engaged in the education process, requiring no gentle nudges, loving prompts or other types of motherly screams, threats or coercions to study well, complete their homework on time and bring home report cards positively bursting with As.
  • And the rental house is sold. And the beach house is in completely good repair.
  • And all the laundry is done and nothing needs folding, ironing or mending.
  • And oh and what the hell, I lose at least seven but preferably twelve pounds.

Then, and only then, would I be willing to haul my ass out of bed. So, instead of doing what I want to do (which is, for obvious reasons, what I’m afraid to do), I will do what Lisa said I do. I will keep going. Which means that today, I will:

  • Get up on time, which happens to be the ungodly (in my opinion) hour of 7:30 a.m.
  • Make oatmeal and pack my daughter’s lunch.
  • Walk her to the bus, complaining about how she didn’t do her chores yesterday and so now I’m super bummed.
  • Teach a yoga class (avoid spending the entire time complaining about my life to what is, essentially, a captive audience).
  • Go to my son’s high school and supervise the study lounge until 1 pm. While I’m there, I’ll surf craigslist looking for a new couch, read and respond to email, return a phone call from my daughter’s P.E. teacher, write this blog and do some algebra.
  • Drop off books at the library.
  • Stop off at the rental house and collect my tools.
  • Stop off at the pharmacy and pick up a prescription.
  • Go home and do a couple of math lessons with my son (hence the algebra).
  • Do three loads of laundry.
  • Get my den ready for our friend Essiet’s arrival tomorrow (which involves putting away all my crap, moving my clothes out of the room so I can get dressed every day and so he has room for his clothes in the closet, setting up the bed, putting on some linens and getting out the guest towels).
  • Try to organize and clean the living room (which is truly a disaster).
  • Make dinner (sausages and ravioli, I think. with bread, and a salad, of course)
  • Oh yeah, stop at the store for bread (no time to bake today).
  • Do as much other stuff as I can make myself do after dinner, before I collapse in a quivering heap of freak-out at the end of the day.
Yeah, I know. There’s a gazillion people out there who will do twice as much today and every day. With a smile on their faces, and perfectly coifed hair. But that’s only because they are better than me. Harder working. Smarter. More talented. And probably thinner too.  I wish I was any of those things. But most of all, I wish I could take a nap.

Thanks for listening. And this concludes the Monday Morning Pity Party. Thank you for coming and have a nice day.




About LeilaPiazza

I am a wife and mother. I am an Orthodox Christian. I am a Syrian American with family living in Syria. I am a also a yoga teacher and freelance writer. I recently described myself in a job pitch as "a person who's lived in Portland, Oregon for over 20 years with a passion for writing and a passion for all things Portland. I'm a foodie, knitter, wine and beer lover, bee-keeper (yep, I said it), mead and fruit-liqueur maker, organic gardener, home-canner, hiker, biker, runner, and occasional skinny-dipper. I’ve camped all over the state, I sail a sailboat that’s moored on the Columbia (o.k., I'm the first mate), and I spend a large percentage of my time at our beach house in Seaside." That about sums it up.
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