I nearly just put down the computer and headed towards the kitchen for unnecessary food... (When you have no appetite, you often have to remind yourself to eat at all, but when I'm stressed, I eat no matter that I'm not hungry.) But I've been talking to myself for the past hour about facing my fears instead of distracting myself from them. And so, here I am.
This is one of those times that I'm going to write this whole long (or short) post, get finished, and then have to make the decision whether or not it just goes in the draft folder. Or if I am brave enough to push the post button.
I want you to know that I've appreciated your kindness, your generosity, the fact that you keep coming back to read, to say 'hey,' to check in when most of what you're getting is maudlin and dreary. And most of us are feeling enough of the maudlin and dreary on our own lately, and don't especially need extra. I know that feeling: I've been guilty of clicking on a blog I love, seeing how sad the post is and moving on, because I just... can't. Not on that day. So I understand if you just can't, too. That's ok. I hope you'll keep in touch, keep checking in, stop by when there's something more pleasant on our plate.
But here's the thing: that plate? Is overflowing. With everything and everybody. And everyworry.
At least that's what it feels like a lot of the time. I know I can handle it: I actually feel like I am handling it all pretty well, but I'm just saying: it's a lot.
None of the other problems I/we have been having disappeared when Nana died. Life doesn't work that way. My illness is not on hold because I don't have the energy to deal with it. My brother's relationship to his fiance didn't become all patched up, and his preferred form of dealing with stress (by not dealing with it) hasn't magically transformed either. The premature twins aren't uncolicky, and their mother is still a tad bit overwhelmed and depressed. The housing market isn't exactly friendly, and neither are the PUS. Things that were little got magnified, and things that were eventuallys became nows. It's unfortunate, but it's true.
And there's the grief. The little moments when you pick up the phone to call her for dinner, when you burst into tears because her favorite thing to teach was always the American Revolution, and she's missing a most awesome show? (Seriously, are you watching this show? It's on the HBO... and now I think Abigail Adams is a rockstar!)
I always feel compelled to put all the good things in, when I start a post like this, in the hopes of saying: 'I know it's a lot, but I've also got all of this!' I'm tempted to do that now, but that isn't what I wanted to write about. Check out my other posts from this week, if you're looking for the happiness.
And the happiness, it's here too. It's the complexity of things that's got me all churned up tonight. A night where my brother takes an Ambien and says it's for stress. Where Youngest Sister fills her plate with Harvard-y things, and becomes blind to everything else. Where Grandmother takes longer to recover from a cold than me (heretofore unheard of, I assure you). Where my doctor's appointment gets rescheduled, but I'm out of meds. Where my checking account starts to resemble Al Capone's Vault. Where my laptop's fan insists on making an extra hissing noise for no good reason. Where the Easter Bunny bought double the amount of candy, used to making twice as many baskets (one from us, one from Nana.)
It's a night for feeling overwhelmed, and I'm not going to apologize for it. I apologize too much: two people told me that recently, and I'm afraid they're right, so I'm cutting back.
Feeling everworry is a heavy thing, and sometimes you just need to set the load down for a few minutes. Thanks for letting me.