I am horrendously bad at asking for help. I am the living version of the phrase ‘it’s easier to do it myself’. I’ve known this for about 10 years now, and whilst I’ve had pockets of time where I’ll really face into it and get a grip I’ve never managed to nail it.
The further into adulthood I’ve moved I’ve begun to realise something – all the spares, the ‘just in case’ packs of goodness knows what and the stock piled cleaning products have started to have a detrimental impact on me. I was surrounded by clutter and it was cluttering my brain. There’s probably an official name for it (will google at some point) but when there’s too much material ‘stuff’ around me I can become borderline miserable.
Before we had bambinos we were in the camp of playing it fast a loose when it came to the big ‘R’ word…routine. We’d seen friends and family take different approaches, and come to a conclusion that the kid would just fit around us / get herself into her own kind of routine. Ha, boy were we in for a shock!
I’m not always kind, or understanding and there are many topics that at the mere mention will light my touch paper and you’ll see me come back down a week later. However, I try every day to be the best version of me.
