It’s hard when I look up and realize that I haven’t written anything in days. Usually it is for a reason and in this case it is for many reasons. Time is a big factor – as in I don’t seem to have enough tome to do the things I want to do. Depression is a side note. Bitterness is a top note. Anxiety is the cherry.
I pour all of my work energy into my job (as it should be) and then I pour all of my Mom energy into the space between work (also known as the time W is not in school). What I no longer have time for is what is starting to take a toll on me. I miss having pockets of time to be creative. I miss having a spare moment to myself. I know this is mostly my doing — all wrapped up in my inability to not effectively time manage. Also my inability to make myself a priority.
There is no escaping the swoop of depression that knocks me down without warning. I made plans and they failed. I am taking it personally. It is not rational, it is chemical. I can be 100% aware of being in a wave of depression and it still doesn’t make it any less suffocating. It is manifesting in my health with the return of headaches. They have gotten so bad that I have started taking my migraine medication again. You know, the one I stopped so that I could try to have another baby.
Which, of course, directly leads to bitterness. I can’t even write all of the bitter thoughts that I have. They are black tar. Totally awful. I feel ashamed for thinking as darkly as I do.
And on top of alllll of this is anxiety. It’s probably more of a sadness about money – but it is manifesting as anxiety. I saved up to try for the FET but after the extra saline sono and blood work added before the cycle could begin I needed to set up billing. No problem. Then the extra blood work and doctor appointments added up and 11 weeks of hell. Part of it is covered by insurance but most is not. It just is what it is. And what it is means that I have to pay off when I would rather be saving up.
There are much, much larger problems in the world and I have been through much larger problems. So I have perspective that this is not end of the world crap here. But I totally have a problem where I have moments where I wish I had punched my money ticket and never had to worry about it again. Wouldn’t that be something? “Oh I already DID poor, thanks, I’m not doing it again.” I’ll endure and I will make it through – but it makes me cranky and irritable to be sidelined by finances. (a theme I am certain many, many people feel)
So. Um. Yeah.
The photo with this post is W and one of his new obsessions: band-aids. He often is heard exclaiming, “oh no! I have a boo boo! I need a band-aid! Mama? Do YOU need a band-aid?” He believes fiercely that band aids can solve everything. If only!