I'm cutting myself a break. Just for the moment. It's a hard balance because I'm one of those who will take a mile when given an inch, even when I'm doing it to myself.
No, I'm giving myself permission not to be perfect or even try to be for my university level Hebrew class. It's probably an excuse, but I really need it right now. I've been physically ill, on and off for over a week. I'm trying to cram this language into my brain and do my job, which is easily more than 40 hours a week. And I'm trying to take care of this body in a way that I haven't been for the first 39 years of my life. And, you know, do the dishes and shit.
I feel like a slacker, though, I do. I know people with children who are doing as much as I'm trying to do. I know people with children who are doing more than I'm doing. I try not to compare, but I do. No one really knows, I explain to myself, how heavy my brain is on me, how complicated this existence is. I should say how heavy my heart is, because that comes into play too, in complication, and in stretching out time.
Time is so stretchy right now. It disappears from me. I sit still in silence in my living room. The T.V. isn't on. There's no music on. Milkshake comes by periodically, and the green digital clock on the VHS player tell me that time is passing. I feel a moment, and the clock says it was forty minutes. 40. And where was I? Lost in thought for forty minutes.
I'm overwhelmed, between class and work, and I need time to get lost in my thoughts. And I feel like I don't even have 40 minutes anymore. It's not really any wonder that I'm sick.
So... I'm patting myself on the head, and putting in stupid T.V. and probably falling asleep on the sofa. I'll get up, go to work and go to class and look Rivka straight in the eye and say: Yeah, I didn't do it yet.