Shaun kicked me out of the house today.
It was actually pretty adorable. Having Trex with me all week, I’ve been going crazy. All I’ve wanted to do is work on the re-writes and edits for this damn novel and my hands have been tied. By the time Trex was finally going to bed, I was so exhausted that I just wanted to curl up and sleep for days. This whole one-parent thing? I fucking suck at it. Without productive alone time, I lose it. Shaun knows this, and he sees me getting frustrated, and he does his best to help. Yesterday, he made it clear that I wasn’t allowed at the house today (given that I return in time for him to go to his guitar lesson…boys).
It was cute, because he thought today was Mother’s day. TWOFER FOR ME!
So I’m at Panera right now, and it’s reminded me of something I forget in my routine and seclusion at home, with the toddler-I’m fucking terrified of being alone in public. I have been for years. Going into new places almost causes me to straight up panic, and my hands want to shake as I write this. It’s not rational, but I think it’ why I make up excuses as to why I can’t leave and go write somewhere away from kids and dogs.
It’s very important, to me, that I go out anyway. Should I continue to sit at home, the fear gets worse and the panic more intense when I go places. The more I go out, however, the more I can assuage my fears and remind myself that everything I’m scared of isn’t actually reality. People aren’t paying attention to me as much as I’m not paying attention to them. To me, it’s victory each time I strike out independently, even if it is successfully not fleeing from a coffee shop.
The fucking kicker though? I’m here to edit on my novel. I didn’t authenticate Microsoft Office before, and now it’s taking its own sweet time actually installing and opening. So I’m here, I’m shaky but ready to hop back into the book, and…loading…loading…loading…