Tank: Anthropologie Gilga Tank
Pants: Hue Denim Leggings in Royal Blue
Boots: Frye Paige Tall Riding Boots
"Here's to the winners of the human race. Here's to the losers in the game...Here's to you my love. Let the day begin." - Black Rebel Motorcycle Club
I'm struggling with life lately. Yeah, I know, I'm always struggling with life, but now more so than ever. I'm getting ready to turn 36, so maybe it's a mid-life thing. Clearly, the middle is never a good place to be. In movies, like The Empire Strikes Back, the middle act is always the one where all the bad shit goes down and everything is left unresolved. In families, the middle child is usually the one with all the "issues." Although, I'm not the middle child. I'm the baby, but let me tell you, I got plenty of issues.
There is one issue in particular that has gotten worse lately, and I'm really scared to talk about it on here. I know with all the personal content I share that it's probably hard to believe that I ever hold anything back, but I do. Even I have my deep, dark secrets, and yes, I'm even more fucked up than you know. However, I feel now is the time to let this particular skeleton out of the closet because its really starting to impact my life in negative ways. I'm hoping writing about it and getting it out here will be the first step in a new direction.
So, now that I've got you all salivating over what this deep, dark secret could be, I'll just throw it out there. I'm sure it's not as juicy as most of you are imagining, and it will probably just cause the rest of you to hate me even more, but here goes nothing... I'm habitually late and have been for all of my adult life.
It started pretty much my first day of college. My parents no longer kept tabs on my comings and goings, and I was suddenly in charge of my own destiny. Due to my OCD, I had always had a hard time leaving the house in the mornings, but college made this 10 times worse. I went from a private high school with 200 students to a public college campus of thousands. To say I was scared and intimidated is an understatement. I must have changed outfits 20 times that first morning, and the mornings after that didn't get much better. Due to the anxiety of leaving my house, I was between 5 to 15 minutes late to my first class my entire 4 years of college. Miraculously, no professor ever said anything to me about it. Maybe it was because I usually had one of the highest grades in the class. I'm not sure, but I got away with it without much grief other than the hell I put myself through every morning.
Once I graduated college and started my professional career, things didn't change much. I had several jobs while living in Durham and was late to them all, but no one ever reprimanded me. Eventually, I got married, quit working, and moved back to my hometown to have a baby. Once I entered the work force again (at my current job), I did really good for awhile and made it in by 8am every morning. Unfortunately, anxiety and OCD started plaguing me again, and I fell back into my old ways. Before I knew it, I was coming in at 8:30am and then 8:30am turned into 9am.
I've been a good employee other than the tardiness issue, so luckily for me my employer has been understanding and flexible with my schedule. I feel VERY fortunate. However, I've always wanted to come in earlier, not just for my employer but for myself. I feel so much better on those rare mornings when I do come in early. Somehow, though, I always end up self-sabotaging myself. Strangely, I'm usually not late to anything else other than work. In fact, I'm never late for anything when it comes to my kids. I do whatever is necessary to get my ass out of the house if I know other people are counting on me. It's the every day monotonous things that get me.
I think the biggest culprit is what I like to call my "early morning ritual." There are certain tasks I must do every day before I can leave the house. These tasks take me around 2 hours to do on a typical day, but have been known to take longer if I'm in a particularly anxious mood. The days that I'm actually on time are due to the fact that I just get up earlier to do these tasks. My problem lately, however, is that I've been having a hard time getting up at all. I don't exactly know what's changed to bring this about. Like I said, maybe its the mid-life thing. Maybe I'm just old and tired and the thought of having to get up and preform the ritual is just too daunting now.
This brings us to my current situation. Lately, I've been going into work around 10, but I'm not gonna lie, there have been some days when I haven't gotten in until noon. I end up working really late hours those days or working on the weekends to make up the time. Even then, I don't make all my hours up, so my pay check is much less. Basically, I feel like shit about myself, my weekends and nights are ruined, and I'm making less money. I'm stuck in a vicious cycle, and I know that somehow I've got to claw my way out.
I'm sure some of you will feel the need to judge me. People who are late are usually considered rude and self-centered. Maybe I am those things. I don't know. I do know that my life would be much easier if I wasn't this way. I wish I could just "snap out of it," "grow up," or "pull myself up by my bootstraps," but unfortunately it's more complicated than that. Life seems so simple for some people, but it has always been anything but for me. However, I'm determined to find my way out of this. Here's hoping that one day I will welcome the early morning light, instead of basking in the noonglow.
*This post dedicated to all my former classmates, past and present co-workers, and anyone else who has ever wondered, "What's up with that bitch's schedule?" Now you know.