Ever get that feeling where there is a giant bowling ball on your chest? You know, where the pressure is just so great that you can barely breath and you feel helpless because try as you might you can't lift the ball yourself? That's me. What's sad is that it's my husband too. He is putting on a major regional anesthesia conference for his residency program and no one wants to help. It happens once every 20 years here in Tucson, he is in charge and everyone is trying to get out of doing ANYTHING. It's awesome.
I am feeling lost, scared, worried, stressed but most of all TIRED. Even thinking about my to-do list makes me want to crawl under my covers and take a nap. The fatigue settles in and I settle down, unable to do anything. People keep telling me it's okay to rest and relax and take it easy because I'm sick and I need to get well. They say not to worry about the laundry or the toilets or cooking dinner. I don't like doing nothing, I don't. I feel lazy and guilty but I still give in and take their advice hoping that they are right. That I really don't need to take care of any of my responsibilities because I am sick. It works for an hour or two while I'm napping but then I wake up and I feel even worse than I did before. I look at my bomb of a house, stuff my kids with more mac n cheese and realize, I am even deeper in than I was before. It doesn't get better when I sit down and stop and rest, it gets worse.
Now I haven't even come to talk about the move. The unknown plans where everything, EVERYTHING down to the flights, the packing, the selling/renting, even the day we are going to leave is unknown. It feels sickening to me. I am good at "rolling with it." I really am. Not as good as Michael but better than the average woman. But this is WAY too much rolling. I can't handle all of the uncertainty anymore. Someone mail me a calender and a price breakdown and an itinerary. I can't do it.
Yesterday in Relief Society our president taught a lesson and quoted a talk about a kindergartner. The little girl arrived on her first day and was asked to choose her favorite color crayon from a box and right her name. This task would be used as a competency exam. The little girls mother watched her daughter, who could easily write her name and even the names of all her family members, stand there frozen in front of the crayon box. She didn't speak or move or make any effort and was then led to a classroom where the teacher assured her she would learn to write her name. Frustrated by her daughters inability to perform a task that should have been easy, the mother brought up the incident on the car ride home to investigate. The little girl explained to her mother that she couldn't write her name with her favorite color crayon because there was no pink in the box. Our RS president then posed the question, have we ever just stood there when life's box of crayons didn't have any pink? When we are faced with challenges and trials, how do we react? I knew at that moment, and therefore wept until I got up and left early, that I have been standing there staring at a box full of crayons not doing anything because the pink was missing. Rather than choose a different color, I just stare and stare. It's tragic isn't it? My inability to adapt and take care of myself? Why haven't I dropped some of my classes? Why haven't I asked a friend for help watching my kids or cleaning up or packing? Why haven't I stayed home and cleaned as much as I can rather than running away to Target or the mall to escape the mess? Why? Why can't I just deal with it?
Mess. That is the key word in this whole moment of self pity. I am a mess, my house is a mess, my brain is a mess, my kids are a mess. Mess. It's painfully true. Yesterday after the egg incident (if you don't know what I'm talking about check my FB page) I just walked back outside and cried. I sat down and thought. I can't do this. I don't know where to start, I don't want to start and I feel so guilty for doing something so incredibly asinine that all I want to do is disappear. Luckily, when Michael got home he was the exact opposite. He laughed and immediately got the broom. He scraped and scrubbed and swept with me till all of the egg was gone. What a blessing. A tender mercy. A wonderful man. But still, here I am on my couch, snotting it out on my blog because I just can't get it together. No, I'm not pregnant, no, I'm not on my period, that was last week. I am just incapable of dealing. Incapable of asking for help. Mess.
If you can, pray for me. Pray that I can re find the strength that comes to all mothers in that miraculous moment their babies are born. Pray that I can choose a different color crayon. Pray that I can make me some friggin' lemonade cause right now, I'm seriously suckin' on some sour lemons. Pray that I can clean up this damned mess.