taking up space (uncomfortably)

Right – so the furniture is no longer stagnant – over the last many days we have shifted and reordered the house in such a way that i get to take up a lot more space – naturally i share this space happily with the animals, but, i have a whole room (that isn’t the kitchen) to myself for the first time in a very very long time. I hadn’t really thought about it – when you’re mom at first even your body is not your own. You get so used to being invaded and imposed on that you get comfortable with it, and i’m not sure that is such a great thing?

I have been battling feelings of overwhelm because now i must do something with the space that validates me taking it up. Shyte when did this happen? When did i have to earn space in my own home?? Are there any of you out there who also battle to take up space?

As i type there is a mountain of unorganised shit behind me because i can’t right now face what it means if i sort it all out. What will i do with my time if i’m not fending off chaos at every turn?

on another (entirely unrelated) note – i watched the hateful eight two nights ago…sigh…the stories have been bogged down since Sally Menke (Tarantino’s long time editor) died. Got to cut the dead weight Q, kill your darlings (one would think the idea of killing your darlings would really appeal to you dude)…it (like Django) was tooooo fucking long! Can’t imagine how painful it was watching on the big screen. At least at home i can pause the fucker – take a walk to prevent a deep vein thrombosis, empty my bladder (at least twice through the course of this meandering madness), stretch out my numb glutes…it must have been sheer torture in an over air-conditioned theatre with a bladder straining under a half litre of slush!

 

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