“I swear to god, I’m done in.”
“One more thing and that’s it I’m done”
“I can’t take much more of this, I think I’m done with it now.”
This week I’ve said all of the above at one point or another, the usual story the kids are driving me nuts, I don’t get enough sleep and what I do get is broken by everyone going about their day-to-day lives while I’m attempting to get my head down after work. Paul has been less than understanding, I have been far less than patient and life in general has been all in all a little bit shit.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what “done” really means, the official meaning is obvious:
no longer happening or existing:
“her hunting days were done”
But in reality how do we really know when we are done and ready to draw a line under things, even if we know they aren’t good for us anymore? The word ‘done’ seems so flippantly used these days that when things are really done people just don’t seem to get it, it doesn’t have the same oomph as screaming “Get the fuck out of my house!” or “Seriously kids I’ll give you ten seconds to pack it in before I throw the Playstation in the bin” and yet admitting to ourselves that something is ‘done’ and meaning it seems like such an impossible task. What if we regret it? What if the world ends because we have decided to stop something? What if we are single handedly responsible for the collapse of the EU? All from making a hasty “I’m done with this shit” bad decision!
There are lots of things in my life that have been put in the ‘case closed’ file and yet they still affect me in so many ways, school, past relationships, old jobs, old friends. All of these things are ‘Done’ and yet I still feel like they are so relevant and that they shape who I am today, some for the better and some for the worse either way they shape me.
I trust a little less easily than before, I love a little less freely and I guard myself way more than I should all because of these things that technically are ‘done’.
I lose count of how many times a week I have a little conversation with myself (we all do it, I’m not crazy) and decide that I’m done with Paul, he pushes all of my buttons (not in a good way) I don’t feel like he understands me at all and he is more stubborn than I am which is impressive really. We argue way more than we should, sometimes in front of the kids I am ashamed to admit (we don’t shout argue we just make little digs at each other in patronisingly sweet sounding voices, but still in front of the kids is not acceptable) and I have never met a man who can piss me off quite as well as Paul manages it.
It’s easy to convince your mind that you are ‘done’ but sometimes your heart just isn’t ready to listen. Sometimes we can be just half ‘done’.
People telling you that you should be done, parents pressuring you to just be ‘done’ already and your well-meaning friends telling you that they would have been ‘done’ with it ages ago is not helpful because they can all tell your mind what it already knows but your heart doesn’t listen, your heart is all about the feels not the thinks.
The fact of the matter is even when we might think we are ‘done’, emotionally, physically or mentally our heart keeps beating and we carry on, even when we conclude a situation it still shapes us, changes us in some way no matter how subtle a change that is, it’s still there. Our todays effect our tomorrows and nothing is ever really ‘done’.
Me and Paul have obviously made up now, as always. He still drives me crazy, but it’s not always in a bad way, and my heart just hasn’t quite caught up with my head yet. Sorry mum.
Until another time lovelies, I’m done.