I haven’t talked to myself in a while.
My head has been a pretty miserable place to be, lately. It was stressful – more stressful than I could handle. So I checked out. I walked away from my role as leader and arbiter and let chaos reign. Like an incompetent parent who retreats into their room, closes the door, and refuses to take any responsibility. The kids took over. And things got messy.
I’ve finally woken up and dragged myself out of bed. I peeked out the door, and wanted to turn right back around at the sight, but I didn’t. I got dressed and walked through the house. Started – with a fair amount of disgust – straightening up the mess. Told myself firmly that this can’t be allowed to happen again. And now, it’s time to check in with my little personalities.
It’s a tough conversation. I abandoned them. I let them run amuck, and they trashed the place. I don’t want to talk to them. I want to scream at them. And at the same time, I don’t want to face them at all, because this is my fault. I’m the parent. And I’ve been a bad one.
They’re in there. Some of them are hiding, I think. Like kids who know they’re in for it. Others are out in the open, defiantly continuing to make mischief – they’ve been given too much freedom, and they have no respect for my authority anymore. And I need to sit down and have a chat with each and every one of them.
I can’t believe how hard this is. I don’t want to have this talk. I don’t want to become reacquainted with these parts of myself. Whether it’s more guilt or fear, I don’t know. But I’d rather climb back into that cozy warm bed than face this reality. Reality is the worst. But I’ve got to do it. Now. If I put it off, it’ll never get done. No cutting corners.
I’ll let you know how it goes.