Pushing myself

Sometimes I push myself so hard I don’t know how or when to stop. I’ve spent the last couple hours cleaning. I began to feel foggy and overwhelmed. And rather than taking a break I pushed harder. When I realized I should take a break, I started to but then noticed the hair balls and dust collected in the corners and felt a compulsion to clean. Keep cleaning. Must keep cleaning. At what cost? At the cost of my inner well being. I started getting angry and agitated. I was pushing chairs over and throwing the broom down in my haste to get every last particle of dust on the floor. It became my angry mission. But not in a good way.

I’m finally taking a break. After I snapped at my partner and yelled at her for looking at me. For looking at me. For watching me as I was sweeping frantically. She responded in a patient, kind tone, “I was just going to tell you what an awesome job you’re doing.” How do I deserve that? After snapping at her. I don’t…

But I’m going to try to go easy on myself. Cleaning is a daunting task for anyone, and considering how easily I get overwhelmed by things, I think I’ve done a fairly good job. I just need to learn to go slow, to take breaks, to do it in moderation rather than pushing myself to the point of breaking. Although pushing myself until it’s horribly painful is something I’ve always been good at. It’s hard to unlearn engrained habits I suppose. But I’m gonna try my darnedest.


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