Conspiracy Theories

I can’t be or do everything for everyone all of the time- or even part of the time!
I can’t come to every event or fulfill every favor asked of me.
I can’t always be as flexible with my time or my schedule as you’d like.
I can’t stop, drop, and make things work out for you at the cost of me sleeping, eating, or actually walking at a normal pace instead of literally RUNNING to my car in order to only be a FEW minutes late.
I can’t do everything you want me to, be everywhere you want me to be, or support everyone in every way all of the time.

I can’t, and what’s more, I WON’T.
Hello world, I am done trying to please all of your occupants at the exact same time.

I will get at least six hours of sleep and refuse to constantly run on caffiene.
I will eat three meals a day, and none of them will be out of a vending machine.
I will sit in the sun, have real conversations, and take time to be still before the Lord- if I can even remember how to be still.
I will try to support you, love you, be there for you, and fulfill my responsibilities to the best of my abilities, but not at the cost of my life.
I will recognize that my problems deserve my attention, too, not just everyone else’s.
I will be angry or sad or irritable or apathetic or exhausted or fed up or overwhelmed when I AM, instead of acting like I can manage everything.
When I’m sick, I will sleep on the couch instead of putting on my high heels and faking it.
When I’m at a loss for words in the middle of a situation, I’ll stop making things up and just shut up instead.

This is me.
This is the end of my rope.
This is my calendar, so full I literally am running out of space even in the margins.
This is my schedule, constantly changing and making me want to punch things.
This is what is asked of me- more than I can handle, because people are used to me stretching and making it work, because I always have.
Not any more, sweethearts.
I’m done stretching myself so thin I’m see-through.
I’m done pretending a handful of peanuts has enough protein to count as a meal.
I’m done putting what I want to do last so that I can’t do everything for everyone else first.

I am going to drive slower, eat slower, walk slower, talk slower, pray slower, think slower, and be as slow as I want to when I respond to your text messages because I am confident that the world will not end if I don’t answer your question within thirty seconds.

Tomorrow, if I’m late that will be ok.
If I don’t look my best that will be ok.
If I’m not in a pleasant mood that, too, will be ok.
SuperSarah just died, kids, and the real girl is coming out.