I thought I was Done with This

When David got a job three hours away two months ago, I knew I would miss him terribly, but I never would have predicted the tail-spin of immaturity I would let myself get sucked into. I thought I was a grown-up now. The ever more noticeable lines on my face tell me I am, but my actions lately are more like a three year old throwing a tantrum. Not a throw myself on the floor, scream and yell till I'm blue in the face kind of tantrum, the eat whatever I want and stay up all hours watching TV kind of tantrum. The kind of tantrum where I know I really ought to be organizing for moving or spending more time with the kids, or at least doing some dishes, but instead find myself zoned out in an endless online house hunting expedition. Have you ever been on one of these downward spirals? The less I do, the less I feel like doing. When the going got tough this time, I checked out. Or am I stating this too strongly? I still taught piano, a scholar class and my own children. Our budget is still on track and the house looked good enough that someone bought it. Christmas preparations are under control and the children don't smell bad. It's just that, personally, any down time I could find, I filled with meaninglessness instead of the important things, even some of the essential ones. I thought I was done with that bad habit. I guess I just wished I was, because when the going got tough, I bailed. But time is consistent and today, this moment, I can start being done with immaturity again.