Making Donuts

If you’re a reader who’s around my age, there’s no doubt you’ll likely remember the commercial with that sad little guy who drug himself out of bed while the sky was still dark, saying “Time to make the donuts.” I always felt so sorry for him because it seemed like he was drudging through life like a robot, with only one purpose that repeated itself each new day. No feeling of joy or surprise. No emotion. No time for anything else.

alarm-clock-590383_1920
Photo courtesy of Pixabay, created 1/6/15. Image Link: https: //pixabay.com/en/alarm-clock-clock-time-minute-hour-590383/

Lately, I have been feeling this way. I get up, walk the dog as the sun is rising, making sure he’s done his business so he won’t feel the need to do it on our floor, drag myself into the shower, get dressed and go to work, try to find something about it that energizes me, leave early to pick up the stepkid from whatever after-school activity was held that day, get home to figure out and serve dinner, feed the dog, walk and entertain him again because he’s been cooped up all day with no one to throw him the ball, navigate through the mounds of clothes and crap that have been left all over the floor or on the kitchen counters…

and then maybe, just maybe, I’ll have some quiet time to do some writing or work on something creative that’s been nagging at me constantly to pay it some attention.

Nope. Not happening.

By the time I’ve finished the last task, there is no desire nor energy to devote to anything else. I am drained emotionally and physically. Done. Finito. Spent. I made the donuts. So I put on my pajamas, crawl into bed, and set the alarm.

Before it seems I’ve even had a chance to shut my eyes and turn off the “noise”… it’s time to make the donuts again.

Don’t get me wrong – for the most part, I don’t mind making donuts. It’s just that there has to be something else to do out there in addition to doing that what feels like all of the time. Problem is, everyone counts on you to make the donuts. If you don’t, then where would they get those lovely sprinkle-covered, custard-filled delights that they love so much? Their lives depend on them. So then, you start feeling guilty for thinking about anything else other than making those donuts because you know it makes everyone happy. So there you go, up before the sun, doing what you must do until the sun goes down and you have nothing else to give… to yourself.

I’m trying desperately to brush off the flour, untie the apron, and find something new to do that will bring me a little joy. My goal is to have found it by the time I reach fifty this December.  I want to snap out of this robotic life I feel is holding me captive and do something.

Just for me.

Stans Donut
Photo by Manda Wong, 8/2/2010. “Stan’s Donuts”, licensed under Creative Commons 2.0. Image link: https://www.flickr.com/photos/superdupermanda/4950193349/

And not feel a damned bit guilty about it.

Anyone else out there feel this way? Let me know.

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