Guilty Blues

It is Monday again. My daughter goes back to school today after  being off for Winter break. Both of us are dragging our feet to get her there. Winter has finally arrived here in the Southern United States. It took a while. It may be chilly out right now but a few days ago I was comfortable on the porch in just a t-shirt and jeans.

Yesterday I divided my time into: feeling bad because my boss was sick and I couldn’t come in to work because my usual babysitter was AWOL; wondering why my parents weren’t answering their phone; feeling guilty because I felt the tiniest bit of relief that I wasn’t able to go to work because I couldn’t find a babysitter; and working on a story for my niece.

Today I still feel guilty because I was unable to go into work. This is the reason I never skipped school as a kid. The guilt eats at me. I never want to face droves of customers even on my regular shifts. I shouldn’t feel guilty because I felt relief at not facing them on a day off. But I let my boss down so I do.

This is the circle of self disappointment that has been swimming around and around my brain since the second or third time I failed to reach my mom. Yeah, I know. It’s dumb. Welcome to anxiety  depression. You obsess about things sometimes.

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Poetry in Whining

A Monday Lament from a Night Walker mugging fork

My back aches 
My shoulder hurts
I want to go back to bed

My bones creak
My brain’s still asleep
I hurt to much to be dead

My coffee is faulty
My movements are halting
Monday has come around

I worked the weekend
And work tomorrow too
Yet I am still Monday down

Monday’s have their pull
On the working world
It doesn’t matter when they come

At the beginning of the week,
In the middle, At the end,
Even after the setting sun.

Life got busy

I missed my post on Monday. Life has been happening at high speeds around here lately. Not only was it a work week, but I am still homeschooling my youngest, and my ex-husband has decided he is moving to another state in a week or so.

Basically I had my hands full being mom, teacher, employee, and writer. The blog post was one of the things that ended up falling by the wayside. I submitted a story and two poems to various places this week too.

Saturday my neighbor is planning on having a yard sale and I agree to have one too, because more stuff hopefully will draw more people. Or if you look at it from my perspective, grocery money is a good thing. (Not that we are going hungry or anything but variety is a scarce thing in our meals right now.)

Sunday there is going to be a total lunar eclipse. I am planning on dragging the kids outside to watch, preferably through the lens of a telescope, but with the naked eye works too. So if you see a bunch of people standing out in their yards on Sunday night around 9 or 10 pm, the eclipse is probably why they are staring into the night. Also, the moon will be at its yearly closest point to the Earth; so that means it will be 13% bigger.

Thick With Sleep

Garfield-Mornings-garfield-172375_312_318Waking up today feels like pulling myself out of a tub of molasses. In a good way. I slept solid last night. I entered so deeply into the realm of dreams that I don’t remember sleeping and I’ve not quite returned to waking.

Yesterday was my son’s 11th birthday. His party was a lot of fun and I got to meet up with friends I haven’t seen in a long time. It was three hours of happy social interaction but by the time I got home I was done in. Only stubbornness helped me stay awake until a reasonable bedtime. (I would have just given in, but my daughter was out with a friend. I was waiting for her to be brought home.)

catnapAfter weeks of restless sleep and waking feeling like the day before never stopped; this thick with sleep feeling is welcome. It is cool outside which makes hot coffee all the more enjoyable. I don’t know what this Monday will hold but I am greeting it with a sleepy contented smile and a warm cup.

A Monday For Facing Fears

Hello. It is Monday again. The sky is overcast and the grass is still damp with dew. I have been up for a bit but I am just now sitting down to write this. I have been stalling.

You see, if I sit down and write a blog post that means it is really Monday. This Monday. The Monday where I once again have to do something that I don’t really want to do because it scares me a little.

Now before any of you get ideas of doctor appointments or tightrope walking into your heads, it really isn’t that big of a deal to the rest of the world. Once I go and get things over with it won’t seem like a big deal to me either. It is the time before I actually step out of my door that is the worst.

I have to go out into the world and adult today. Yes adult can be used as a verb. If you don’t think so, just wait. One day you will do a thing and it will be something that is necessary but not really something you want to do. In fact you would probably like to avoid that thing all together. However, you will take a deep breath and do it anyway. That is adulting. (In some cases “adulting” can be not doing a thing you do really want to do.)

I have to put on my adult costume and go pretend to be something I’m not. I am an adult. I have bills, pets, kids, laundry and everything. It all gets paid, fed, or washed. But to the rest of the world I get the feeling that I am just not quite adult enough. I have to go confront the local school board over my son today. I may even be home schooling before the day is out.

(Summary of the issue is that they want my social anxiety afflicted son to move schools during his last year of primary because he is not zoned for the school he has attended since kindergarten. Makes sense except for the fact he has never been zoned for that school but it hasn’t been a problem until now.)

Sometimes I feel I have to over adult because once someone in power find out I am a single mom, for some reason my adult meter drops. I watch it happen. There is this little smirk that comes up in the corner of their mouths and their eyes say “Oh, that’s what we are dealing with.”

If they find out I am pursuing the dream of being a writer the meter drops even more. It is like I am a little kid dressed up in her mom’s shoes and no longer have to be taken seriously. I hate, hate, hate being humored or patronized. If you are going to look down on me at least do it in a way that gives me a chance to fight back.

I am not on welfare. I am paying my own mortgage. I work 72 hours in one week, then come home and do all the other stuff people have to do and be mom.  (Okay my incredibly wonderful mother helps me out with some of that.) Then I write because I am a writer. I can and I will pursue that dream. Just because I happen to not have a mate does not mean I have to give up on everything and go wallow in how hard life is.

I even have a freaking vegetable garden in the back yard! If anything I feel like they should be taking me more serious or at least trying help me out a little. But that is not the way it goes. Instead I am silently put into a stereotype box and anything I say from that point on will be viewed wearing shades colored by that box.

It is incredibly frustrating and I don’t like confrontation to begin with. Writing it all out here has helped. I don’t feel so uneasy now. I am going to go forth into battle before my courage fades. Wish me luck.

Down in the clover

It is seven o’clock in the evening as I sit writing this. It is warm outside with a nice breeze blowing. I sat on the back porch for a little while watching the clover dance in the wind and the black and yellow bees hop from the white flowers that rose out of the sea of green leaves. They looked like farmers picking cotton or tomatoes.bee1

The bees only stayed a moment at each flower and three of them were spread out in sort of a lopsided triangle. They all made their way through the clover patch at the same speed and in the same direction; but there was always one bee out front while the other two were back and to the side.

I feel a bit melancholy at the moment. I was hoping sitting outside would help. However, as I sat on the steps I was accosted by a door to door sales man attempting to sell me faster internet service. I politely listened to him, just because I could, then took his information before passing back a business card of my own. I mean why waste a chance to gain a new reader? If they are going to try to sell me something then turn about is fair play.

I am still feeling a bit down. The wind, clover, bees, and chatty salesman didn’t change that. The depression monster has walloped me good and I think I will just lay here a minute. I will get back up. I will continue to fight. But for now I will just take deep breaths and watch the bees in the clover a bit more.

Sharing Burdens

I feel like I am hanging on to the end of a frayed rope and my palms are sweaty. If I think too much I will have a major anxiety attack and end up back in bed, under the blankets, and trying not to hyperventilate. I’ve got troubles. Doesn’t everyone?

I know that the things going on right now that are stressing me out will pass. And once time moves me past this trial it won’t seem as insurmountable as it does now. Sometimes living with anxiety depression makes you feel like even small tasks are the equivalent to Frodo taking the one ring to Mount Doom.

Today I am facing a second trip to the doctor for my sick son. I also have a million tiny errands that need to be done. I need to make some phone calls, buy cat food, acquire doctors notes, and manage to pick my daughter up from school.

Monday I have a meeting at my son’s school because he has been absent a lot this year. He has inherited my anxiety demon. It, combined with a few other stressors, has made this school year hell. There have been times I have had to drag him begging to the car and you don’t want to know how many times he has thrown up on himself because of stress.

This meeting has me all tied in knots. I am trying to prepare for it. I don’t like confrontation to begin with and now I have to stand up and plead my son’s case or leave with a fine. Ironically, the day after he brought home the note for the meeting, he woke up with a 103.3 degree fever. I took him to the doctor yesterday and they said it is the flu. Again. (He has already the flu once this school year, before Christmas.) They want to see him again today. He will be out all week.

I did have plans to attend a Cherry Blossom Festive this weekend. That has been scrapped in favor of playing Nurse Mom and fretting over the future. I know worrying over the out come of the meeting will not change anything, but that doesn’t stop my brain from going: What if… and then chasing the thoughts around and around like a dog going after his own tail.

I find  that writing things out does help. That is one of the reasons I am writing this. I don’t have to share these words on line but I probably will anyway.  Because, I know I am not the only anxiety depressive out there. Sometimes reading about other people’s struggles makes your own seem smaller. Sometimes it makes you feel less alone.

If one person reads these words an thinks “Oh, I do that” or “Yeah, feeling overwhelmed sucks,” then these words will have meant something more than just me calming myself down. They will have reached out into the world and connected me with another person, and that is a precious, wonderful thing. It means I am not alone either.