I could tell you about the various why's- the meetings, the sick kids, yadda yadda yadda. Instead, we're going to talk about the result of the chaos.
I'm tired. So very tired. I'm half asleep as I write this, and I doubt I will bother doing too much proofreading before posting (aren't you glad I do my very not-best for you?) And this tired isn't just from Vlad deciding to scream for 2 hours in the middle of the night. See, I am having a lot of time laying in bed, wide awake, worrying.
I worry about everything. What's going on now, next week, next year, next decade. And it all seems to come flooding in at midnight, while I try to get a decent night of sleep. The days are filled with meetings and therapies and work responsibilities, and the nights are filled with thoughts of them.
|Thanks for the silver hairs, worrying!|
I know I need to relax. Maybe I should pencil that into the calendar. My husband, my therapist, my friends...they all tell me how stressed out I am, and that I need to calm it down. And during those moments at midnight where I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, I think that maybe they are right.
But I feel guilty. I get out of the house and go out for coffee, or dinner with the girls, or just OUT, much more often than The Husband. I probably get away from my kids far more than many of my friends with typical kids. I spend money that we don't have to go out with friends. I spend a ridiculous amount of time on facebook. I'm a slacker in the housewife department.
So, where is the line? Or, is there a line? At what point does my search for sanity start to hurt my family? Sometimes I feel like I toe that line, but then I realize- I am not at a point where I am doing well. Insomnia due to anxiety is not healthy. And THAT can't be good for my family.
I just don't know what the answer is. Do I go to a doctor and try to find the magic pill that will ease my anxiety? I would guess the success of that would be dependent on whether my issues are situational or neurological. Do I make a point to step away a bit more and try to find happiness through little moments of light conversation with friends and dinner dates with The Husband? Those aren't exactly easy to attain either.
I know I need to be well. Heck, my job is basically preaching to women about the fact that they need to take care of themselves. But it's just so much easier said than done. It all seems to be a trade off...take care of me at the expense of them. I get time out of the house and The Husband endures hours of screaming. I spend the evening decompressing and the laundry piles up. There is just no winning, it seems.
Things need to change, that much is clear. I can't get any more high strung. And life isn't likely to calm down anytime soon. Seven days until Vlad's big evaluation (not that I'm counting.)
A problem without a solution. Another thing to worry about in bed tonight.