I am exhausted...or at least I think that I am. All I know is at this moment I am tired and avoiding going to bed.
Last week whatever pestulance the boys had was given to me. I missed only one day at work because on the one day that I felt like I could die I realized that I didn't have the time to be sick. In order to sleep and take away the pain and achiness away I have been taking Tylenol PM...which after use of longer than 3 to 4 days of use can lead to strange symptoms such as a sense of dreaming while awake, grogginess, anxiety, cloudy thinking...and depression.
Of course the depression was there to begin with, and the medicine only makes it worse.
Why am I depressed? I feel like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I am supporting five people on one paycheck that manages to cover rent and utilities but not food. My loan check from my student loans went way way too fast...but then again, we really needed to stock up on food from Costco and I needed to pay my parents back for their monetary gift of my bankruptcy lawyer fees. Everything that was bought was justified but we still couldn't get the things that we needed like phones, or the rather desperate need of new tires. They are so bald at the moment that I am just waiting for one of them to burst when I am driving someone to somewhere for something. It is like waiting for an axe to fall. or...what is it called...the sword of damacles?
I have thought about starting my thesis...or rather I panic about not being able to read enough to do it adequately. So far I have kept up with my classes...but I know that I should be doing so much more.
I don't miss working at Williams-Sonoma but I miss the extra paycheck. While something is in the works with Mr.3, I have no idea of when it will all come through. Which makes me want to start looking for a second job again, and then the voice of reason in the back of my head says two things---why should you? and do you really think that you will be able to survive it, the last time nearly killed you?
Mr.3 has been home for three weeks now. And things have been good mostly....the mostly basically accounts for my multiple freakouts because of one thing or another. I thought that I was a stable person, but I'm not. I keep cracking. When I try to explain things to Mr.3 he gets quiet and internalizes it all...and I don't want him to take it personally, I just need someone to listen and understand what is going through my head. I haven't started any fights and I haven't directly accused him of anything....but whenever I try to explain my panic and anxiety over the possibility of him lying to me again or him leaving me...he sees it as a personal attack.
Since he has been back I have had dreams that I can't find him, or that he is leaving me, or that someone has forcibly taken him away from me. These nightmares happen every night. With or without the addition of medication to my system. I feel consumed by these nightmares and my anxieties. Again I find myself in mid-step, hovering between one place and the other...the other being the answer to so many questions and the knowledge that everything will really be ok in one sense or another.
My self-esteem is even shot. Yes, I am big and always have been...but I have always had a strong level of confidence. Two Fridays ago I went in for my annual girlie exam...and even though the doctor talked to me about my latex allergy...I discovered only after the INTERNAL examination that she used latex gloves. The first time I discovered that I had this problem it took me five months of hell to heal. I have been taking antihistamines to help counteract my skin's reaction, and numerous salt baths to try and keep my ph in balance...but things still aren't right, and I don't know when they will be. This does not help my self-image at all.
The only thing that I have felt that I have managed to do right lately is get back on tract with my article writing for Global Voices. I got 34 comments on my Hrant Dink post....34! That is unheard of!
So where does this leave me? On the couch, typing at almost 1 in the morning, because I am afraid of my dreams...of my insecurities overtaking me...or the kitchen full of dirty dishes....or the house that needs cleaning...the articles and books that need reading....of everything and then nothing at all.