Hi, I’m Debbie Downer

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There are quite literally days I don’t talk to anyone but the kids and Kevin. It’s awful quiet those days and I find myself reaching out on the internet. On groups and on blogs and even Facebook (although I’ve sworn off it for a while). I don’t think I am a “dumb” girl. I don’t feel small-minded or mean. I try to look at things from both sides. But often, maybe even always, I say the most idiotic things ever.

I think it’s because I am a Debbie Downer.

My friend Jen is on an awesome 21 day health, um, plan? I think. Me, trying to be encouraging after failing miserably at my lifestyle change, made some stupid comment on her blog about how I couldn’t do it. Way to be encouraging. Um, not. You can’t delete those posts like you can on Facebook but I was forced to go back and comment what a numb nuts commenter I was. She understood. But I still felt like an asshole. I feel like an asshole a lot.

I try to think about what I am saying/typing before I say it. And often in my head it sounds genuine and kind but it’s not. It’s almost always the wrong thing. And I don’t know how to fix it.

I have the unfortunate habit of being a “half empty”. I find it hard to see the good in things because well, let’s face it, I’m sad a lot. A true Eeyore at heart really and feeling all the feels all the time takes a lot out of a person.

Fresh air they say! Get outside. So I do. I take the kids to the park and I’m then the “phone mom” or the mom whose kid pee, with his full bare bum, into the wood chips on the playground. Mortified, I generally yell at him and sweep him away in shame. Instead of just calmly explaining that we use the bathroom or at the very least a tree. I take them to the baseball games in hopes there will be kids to play with and adults to talk to but I am the mom who flies off the handle because someone pushed my stroller down a hill with my camera inside. I bust him, telling him to be more careful instead of taking the blame for leaving my camera somewhere unsafe to begin with. Then I over think it for weeks and never want to go to the park again. At least not until I’ve had parenting lessons. Fresh air doesn’t help me, it makes me more insane I think.

I thought it was free breakfast at Chick Fil A yesterday. My husband works there, you’d think I would know what was going on. I don’t. He doesn’t tell me. I don’t ask and I stopped reading the mailing list emails a long time ago. We like free breakfast, especially because the store is slow in the mornings. I can sit close to the glass enclosed play area and the kids can play while I attempt to eat a warm breakfast. But yesterday? It was not free breakfast. Instead it was BINGO.

Someone kill me.

Of course we couldn’t leave because I’d promised Dexter a sandwich and some playing and so, I rushed him to the table and then through the actual eating so that we could get the hell out of there. Bingo is my worst nightmare. All those people, all that noise and not being able to control whether we win or not. While I want my son to learn to lose gracefully, I don’t want to do it in front of 50 plus mothers and their children.   That is a lesson for another day. We left, with the promise of the park. I knew this wasn’t the best idea because I had errands to run and well, I was filthy but sometimes bribery works… except for when it doesn’t.

We got to the park that I like because it’s small but has enough for everyone to do. There was another family there, of course eating McDonald’s. McDonald’s is something Dexter asks for almost daily and I also say no to. Because let’s face it, it’s gross.  And I was hot and tired and not excited to be at the park and I have this horrible sciatic nerve injury that makes it hard to lift Dixon, let alone Dexter. So of course Dexter needed help with everything. And I finally got frustrated when he cried from the swings that he needed help up and said, if you can’t do it yourself, then you’re not big enough to do it yet.

That’s when “best mom ever” stepped in. “Do you need help buddy? You can’t get your butt up there by yourself?”

Seriously?

I took him aside and explain for probably the 12th time that my back hurt and I wasn’t gonna be able to lift him and he had to stop crying. Of course then is when Dixon runs in front of her swinging children and with a cheerful tone, she tells my 2-year-old to be more careful. I hear that as “hey asshole, watch your kids”, swoop everyone up and just go home because Debbie doesn’t need the shame of the park.

So they say think positive, read positive things, and you’ll be positive too. So I subscribe to the happy emails, I unfollowed yahoo news (because let’s face it, if I have to read about another baby dying I may need a straight jacket. Was it always like this or is it just now that the news is so available?) But now I feel disconnected and the constant stream of make your life better by following these 10 simple steps makes me feel like I can’t follow simple directions and that’s why I yell at my new driver when she can’t parallel park in front of a police officer. Image my horror when he rolled down the window to talk to us. It was all I could do not to cry.

I’m a Debbie Downer and I don’t know how to change it. I don’t know how to “be” happy. How do you just do it? Because I am really trying to choose it and I am really, really not doing so well.

What are your best tips for turning your frown, well upside down?

God that was cheesy.

Barf.  See I did it again

Signed,

Debbie Downer

 

 

 

Hi! I’m Gail, the voice behind Mimicking Motherhood. I started blogging after the birth of my 2nd child as a way to connect with far away family. Things have definitely changed since then. Now, mama to five, this is a place to help connect with other mothers, who feel like me.I love to make and write all while trying to figure out how to be myself in the world of anxiety and depression. Glad you stopped by.

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