"Momma, I had the worst bad dream. The one where I falled off the side of the Earth? You know that one, Momma? It's the worst of all of the bad dreams, isn't it, Momma?"
I nod and I understand, because I can think of no words better to describe how I have been feeling lately, like falling through space with no one willing to pull you back in, like drowning and no one knowing how to keep you from getting wet.
It's an uphill battle to get out of bed everyday, let alone function and pretend like I am a regular part of society. My child has not gone to sleep before 1 AM any day this week. Since I cannot trust her, I have not been to bed anytime before 1 AM this week. Which really means that I lay there and make lists of all of the things that I need to do, all of the things that have been done, what checks have hit the bank account, which ones have not, whether or not I am due for my pap, trying to remember when her eye doctor appointment is and when my next doctor appointment is, reminding myself for the 80th time that I need to schedule an appointment for the Hubs, because I am fairly certain that that is a hernia and he should probably get that checked out.
Now? I am exhausted and am facing the weekend with dread.
I considered taking up drinking for a moment, then remembered that I can't even do that.
If I were a drug addict, or were going to become a drug addict, I would choose an upper like meth or some kind of amphetamine. My own brain is an incredible downer and I don't need anything else to persuade me not to do the laundry, the dishes, or clean the playroom.
I would not be a very good drug addict though. For one, after I start feeling "better" I forget to take the next so I never really level out. Secondly, as my girl from back in the day told me, I would be a highly annoying drug addict because I never stop talking or moving. On an upper, I would be 10 times worse than that constantly chattering away, stopping every so often to say, "Does that make sense?" while vacuuming, running the dishwasher, and the washing machine. On TV shows, I would be the annoying crazy addict that gets shot in the face. Does art imitate life or life imitate art? Either way, if I were on drugs, I would probably get shot in the face, so I guess that idea just got thrown out the window.
I crochet, but I seldom have the time or energy to do it well lately and since I have been diagnosed as "crazy-35-year-old-with-arthritis-only-in-the-thumb", it hurts too much to really invest the time into it. I would knit or sew, but again, I just don't have the time or energy to devote myself to something that I am not sure I could really even focus enough to pay attention to the details. I am giving it all I got right now and I have still had to rewrite this sentence 3 times.
Now you know, I don't sleep, I am in pain, my mind won't stop, and I fear that I am going insane.
UPDATE: I just found out that I have OFF for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. Which means? Momma gets to stay home all alone while those suckers still have to go to work and school and barring somebody getting sick - I get a TRUE vacation, by myself, in the house, with no one but the cats and the chickens asking me for things or yelling at me. Screw Christmas - this is something to look forward to!