No fun

I had a slight wobble on Friday when I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun. I promptly texted Chump and told him we never had any fun anymore. He promptly ignored me because he was at work and I dealt with my existential crisis alone. Or did I? I’m still in a funk. Now, of course parenting is fun. I mean you get to be around little people who are funny and imaginative. But it’s also drudgery. You know all that. I write about it extensively for god’s sake. But when I look at my life, I think I’m in my early 40s (ffs), I have my health, I have friends (I think), I have family. I have a career. Yet I have no fun in my life. Why? Because all I do is parenting, work, exercise and family. I love exercise. It makes me feel good. It’s a non negotiable in my life. But it takes up so much of my time and mental energy. Especially because I tie exercise in with diet. Because I think I’m chubby, I have to watch what I eat and exercise like a mofo, just to stay this level of chubby. It’s soul destroying. Know what I mean? I mean I exercise because I enjoy it, but there’s also a lot of guilt attached to it too. Oh I ate some chocolate, therefore I must workout. Chump thinks I have body dysmorphia. I probably do. Great, I’ll just add it to my growing list of mental health disturbances. I look in the mirror and I hate what I see. I probably look like a normal person. But in my mind, I look like an elephant. It’s brutal. It means my life is taken over by what I eat and how much I move. Ok, anyway, that’s only one tiny aspect of my current predicament. Since I have kids, I have scheduled my life down to a tee. We are on such a militarily precise schedule that if we deviate even a little bit, it drives me into a tail spin. Which means that I can’t go off grid and just do something because I want to. It’s a depressing way to live frankly. And I know what you’re thinking – I have scheduled it all myself. But if I don’t have this schedule, life would be too chaotic. Laundry wouldn’t get done. Homework wouldn’t get done. Activities would be missed. It’s too much for my OCD brain to handle. So I schedule the shit out of my life. I’m just not having fun right now. Poor Chump, when he got home from work, he told me he booked a day off and we were going out. He took me out of my schedule. Stopped me from doing my precious exercise and from the rigidity of the life I’ve created for myself. I’m hoping that the Christmas holidays will also lighten my mental load a bit too. No school, no laundry, nowhere to be, but home. I’ll still exercise compulsively because I’m psycho, but hopefully I will be liberated from everything else. Ok bye.