I've noticed of late that I'm becoming more and more ostrich-like the older I get-rather than develop a plan to deal with something, I am apparently detaching myself from it.
To a point, I've always been this way. I think that compartmentalizing can be healthy sometimes: when something overwhelms me, I take it out of my focus and stick it on a "mental shelf" to pull down later and deal with it.
That's always been my way, but recently, my shelves are getting a little too loaded up.
My teenager decided to give up on homework entirely for a while. When it came to a big writing project, he said simply, "I'm not going to do it."
I fired right back with, "You don't have a choice."
He was emphatic when he repeated, "I'm not going to do it."
This became his mantra for a spell about any and all things homework.
We took away the computer and video games.
It left me feeling so clueless and helpless.
In reporting on local police activity I've noticed there have been a couple times where parents have called police because their children absolutely refuse to even get out of bed to go to school. To be honest, I feared this was where we were headed.
I felt astoundingly clueless, and this isn't exactly a situation that I can compartmentalize. It had to be addressed.
There were days where I would start to try and figure it out on my own, and then I'd have to say, "OK, that's enough for now, think about it later."
Eventually, it was a whole lot of legwork on the part of my husband that's gotten the situation sorted out.
But I've got two big things on the horizon that I know I will have to deal with myself: getting the Buick cleaned out and sold, and getting moved out of the Prosser house that I was renting and have since vacated after getting married recently.
Both need to be done pronto, but every day I'm catching myself saying, "I will come up with a plan and think about it later."
Don't be too surprised if I sport a long neck and feathers by the end of this month.