I think all the stress in my life is finally starting to get to me. For the past two days I’ve been itchy, squirrelly, and having some difficulty finding a place for myself. Nothing feels right; I’ve been trying to write this post all damn day and I’m not even sure if it’s going to make sense. Nevertheless, I’m writing it, if only to prove to myself that I’m not losing my grip for realz.
Chewing on a soft, warm brownie. At least I can enjoy the sensual things. The weather has also been crisp but beautiful, although I haven’t spent any time outside because I’ve been in the house in my PJs, dinking around on the Internet and not sticking with any one site for very long. I don’t have the attention span right at the moment. I keep having to get up and do something every so often, even if it’s just taking a glass to the kitchen, but I don’t seem to be able to harness the energy to actually DO something.
Like tackle the enormous amount of sorting, packing, and throwing things away that need to be done before renting a storage shed for all our remaining possessions. Will and I have collected a LOT of crap over the years. We probably should have another yard sale, but at this point I’d rather watch the Chargers play the Broncos. In Denver. In blowing snow.
There are way too many things to think about. I’ve had to use the Ativan three times in the past week and a half because all of this is making me more anxious than usual. Most of the time I tough it out, but at night all the thoughts crowd in on me until I’m ready to put my head through a wall. Far better to knock myself out than stay up half the night ruminating, right? Then of course I get distracted by stray ideas that waltz through my head, like how this is going to be my first Christmas ever without presents. I don’t know how to behave at Christmastime when I can’t buy presents. But it’s only two months away and we’re about to hit the lowest point ever in our financial life, so I guess I’m going to find out. I’m resigned to it.
Other stupid shit I think about: How long will it really take to get Social Security, if I get it at all? How much will I earn from writing? How do I re-home three older cats? (My son-in-law and my grandsons, among others, are violently allergic to them.) How will I get my flu shot this year? (Will already got his.) I still can’t believe this is happening. And where, oh where did the smart, witty woman who used to wear my clothes and sit at my desk go?
Yes, I sense a disturbance in the Force and I’m not happy about it. Maybe it’ll all make sense tomorrow. Maybe not.