I’m kind of a wreck these days. I haven’t been talking about it much because I’m trying to ignore it. I don’t even think I should talk about it here.
But I’m going to.
I think I’m having a breakdown of some sort.
I can’t sleep through the night. I wake up panicking. Hyperventilating. I start thinking about all the bills that need to be paid. Bills that can’t be paid. Some, if we ignore any longer, will have serious ramifications.
I listen to my husband snoring softly, seemingly untroubled.
I’m jealous. I wish I could not worry. But it seems someone has to.
I look at my clock. It’s 4am. I get up to pee.
I collect my 5 y/o, who must have his mommy radar on super sonic hearing because he is calling for me. I carry him with me and go back to bed.
When my son is talking in his sleep, the top of his body on me and legs draped over his dad, I start to obsess more.
This time, it’s about my health. I’m sure it’s cancer. Lori…I know. But still. I can’t help it.
If I lay on my left side, I can’t catch my breath. Nerves?
My tummy is swollen. There is pressure between my ribs. And I can never breathe right.
And the more worried I get, the more defined my symptoms become. Which makes me more worried.
See, I told you I’m losing it.
I worry. All the time.
Worry about money.
Panic about my children.
Feel badly that I’m not able to give them much more than the necessities. They want. I can’t always provide. Dance classes. Guitar lessons. Art. Sports.
Worry about my health.
It’s so hard.
I feel like everything about my life is. So. Fricking. Difficult.
I want to be able to contribute more than I do. But I’m career-less. I started working for my dad again. That’s a few dollars per day. Mani/pedi money. Well, it’s something, right?
I feel so trapped in my life. 40 years old. And what have I done? BESIDES my kids.
There are so many wants. And so many needs. It’s like a tidal wave crashed over me and I can’t find my way to the surface.
I need to breathe. Deeply.
And not hold that breath in.
I want more from me. For me. For my children.
I want to be able to sleep without panicking.
I want to be able to really enjoy my life.
I want to travel. To show my kids the world.
I want to be able to give my kids things that I grew up with.
But I can’t.
Because half the time, we can’t even pay all the bills.
And it’s a vicious cycle.
Worry leads to panic which leads back to worry.
And so it goes back to me. A wreck.
I’m not really sure what to do about it.
Except what I am doing.
Which really, doesn’ t seem like very much.
I just need to be able breathe.
And I want to get to the point where exhaling is involuntary again.