I have a cold. Or allergies. Either way, I'm tired. Really, really tired. My eyes water and the lids are straining to stay open, but I'm alone at home. My two younger children are in school and, if I take a nap, what if I don't wake up? My children would come home to find me dead on the couch and forever be traumatized. Can't do it, no matter how crazy that sounds. Now I'm doing everything I can to avoid sleep, as though I'm a teenager in the 1980's trying to avoid Freddy Krueger. Soda, chocolate, Netflix, repeat.
I'm well aware it's irrational, and that every time I've slept, I've woken up 100% of the time. 100%. I've never done anything 100% ever in my life BESIDES waking up. I know that I won't sleep today though. The only way I could is by asking my husband to call me every hour to make sure I'm not dead, and I just can't let him know I'm that messed up.
I'm exhausted. It's not just my cold, it's everything. My oldest child has schizophrenia and while she doesn't live with us, I'm still her primary contact for all things and there are days I don't know how to do it. I'm being pushed to my limits and when it gets to be too much, I am incapacitated by the pressure. It feels like my chest is caving in. Then panic sets in: I'm dying. If I stand up, I'll fall down. If I sleep, I won't wake up. If I start crying, I won't stop. After a particularly shitty event, it takes a couple of days for me to bounce back, and that's only if I don't start worrying about my two younger kids and their mental health.
Fuck. Then I remember that my younger kids have mental health issues as well. My brain leaked into their brain and they are more like me than I wish they were. My DNA feels like poison. One is anxious, one is depressed. How do I take care of them? I take care of myself, but that feels like it's too much for me today.
So maybe it's not just anxiety today. Maybe today it's the anxiety and the depression. And I know my anxiety gets better with exercise, but my depression won't let me get off the couch. I'm pulled in two direction, but depression usually wins because that takes less effort.
The only comfort in this whole dumpster-fire of a situation is that I know there are a million people who understand what I'm saying. We all need to be kinder to ourselves and cut ourselves some slack. Today's slack for me is drinking Coke, watching Netflix and eating chocolate, because fuck anxiety. Fuck depression. Fuck everything it has stolen from me. Fuck my DNA that has turned on my children, and fuck the stigma of having mental illness. People argue with the idea that we are our mental illnesses, but I am my anxiety. I am my depression, and I am a real fucking person who gets through each and every day, missing naps and doing the adulting that needs to be done, all while feeling like I'm dying on the inside. I embrace those parts of me, otherwise the monsters are too big to face.
I'm well aware it's irrational, and that every time I've slept, I've woken up 100% of the time. 100%. I've never done anything 100% ever in my life BESIDES waking up. I know that I won't sleep today though. The only way I could is by asking my husband to call me every hour to make sure I'm not dead, and I just can't let him know I'm that messed up.
I'm exhausted. It's not just my cold, it's everything. My oldest child has schizophrenia and while she doesn't live with us, I'm still her primary contact for all things and there are days I don't know how to do it. I'm being pushed to my limits and when it gets to be too much, I am incapacitated by the pressure. It feels like my chest is caving in. Then panic sets in: I'm dying. If I stand up, I'll fall down. If I sleep, I won't wake up. If I start crying, I won't stop. After a particularly shitty event, it takes a couple of days for me to bounce back, and that's only if I don't start worrying about my two younger kids and their mental health.
Fuck. Then I remember that my younger kids have mental health issues as well. My brain leaked into their brain and they are more like me than I wish they were. My DNA feels like poison. One is anxious, one is depressed. How do I take care of them? I take care of myself, but that feels like it's too much for me today.
So maybe it's not just anxiety today. Maybe today it's the anxiety and the depression. And I know my anxiety gets better with exercise, but my depression won't let me get off the couch. I'm pulled in two direction, but depression usually wins because that takes less effort.
The only comfort in this whole dumpster-fire of a situation is that I know there are a million people who understand what I'm saying. We all need to be kinder to ourselves and cut ourselves some slack. Today's slack for me is drinking Coke, watching Netflix and eating chocolate, because fuck anxiety. Fuck depression. Fuck everything it has stolen from me. Fuck my DNA that has turned on my children, and fuck the stigma of having mental illness. People argue with the idea that we are our mental illnesses, but I am my anxiety. I am my depression, and I am a real fucking person who gets through each and every day, missing naps and doing the adulting that needs to be done, all while feeling like I'm dying on the inside. I embrace those parts of me, otherwise the monsters are too big to face.
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