And Then There Were 4

Today was a rough day for me. I got up and realized I had nightmares the entire night. It was awful. Part of my nightmares were real. Part of them, just made up. I can not figure out why my subconscious and memory are working together to try to destroy me. I dont get it.

You would think that your body would work together to keep you rested, well-nurished, energetic, fit, healthy, sane and alive. No. Mine is trying to destroy my sanity, one minute at a time (on some days anyways). It is obviously oblivious to the toll that the stress and havoc my kids behavior has on me. Or maybe it is really just working WITH them to drive me insane. The verdict is still out on that.

After a long day of driving to and from appointments, one being therapy, my body decided I was not going to be of use for the remainder of the day. It decided that it would allow me to eat, but only a little. It would allow me to talk, but limited its subject matter so much, that I could really not talk much, so I don’t know if that even counts. So as all 5 of us sat at the dinner table discussing what needed to be done before Christmas (because NO ONE knows wants their house to look like some one actually LIVES in it….that’s just crazy talk. ) and when we would be decorating the tree.  – Side note, I have two step children, and trying to get my kids and my step kids all home at the same time, long enough to decorate a tree is pretty much like trying to get my chickens (now chicken) into their coup at night so nothing will eat them…or it…because something did eat one…in the pen though…so I don’t really know why I bother. But, that is why our tree is not yet decorated. – I finished my meal and told Jeff I needed to lie down because after a day of panic attacks, anxiety, and exhaustively painful talking, not to mention all the ways my body is trying to drive me insane – not a far drive! – I needed to relax and “unwind.” I have therapy again in the morning, so I need to recharge, or at least attempt, because I really don’t know if I believe I will wake up refreshed tomorrow either, but its worth a try.

After my statement, Jeff gave the girls THE LOOK. THE LOOK is really just a look that means “don’t go anywhere, I have work for you girls.” This look made me even more tired, and made the girls want to wish it was bedtime or something. Unloading the dishwasher is not only uncool, but tiring. Rounding up any stray dishes is just as awful. These things are close to some sort of horrible punishment, but no one gets hurt. Physically. They may be scarred for life, but, aren’t we all? I got my free pass, and I am pretty sure the girls hate me for it. What they don’t know, and I don’t know if my husband really even understands, is that I can only accomplish so much on days like today. I can only deal with so much on days like today. So while they see me as getting a “get out of jail free” card, it really is a “I have been in jail all day in my own mind, and I am so exhausted I could fall asleep even if it is only 6:30 pm. Bryce was also told to do some things, and so he finally decided that maybe he would eat all his food, or at least all he could slowly eat until there was nothing for him to do, the girls started on what needed to be done (after claiming they had ocd, then saying they meant the opposite of ocd, but frankly, you cant take back saying you have ocd when being asked to straighten something up…) Jeff also started doing some things, and I snuck away upstairs, to unwind, and write this post. So. The downstairs kitchen went from 5….. to 4. And I will not be ashamed of that. Because I hate dishes anyways.

xoxo-Amber

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s