It’s been forever since I’ve written. Someone told me I only write when I’m sad, which does make sense. Now I’m writing because I feel overwhelmed.
I feel overwhelmed with the monstrous task of parenting. I Feel like I’m doing everything all wrong and my kids aren’t getting enough attention from me and neither is my husband. I feel guilty relaxing at the end of the day.
My mind is always on; some days I just wish for ONE day without OCD. ONE day without the constant thoughts going around and around in my brain. Just one day. It doesn’t feel like too much to ask.
Another of my children has a possible diagnosis of something scary called Nevoid basal-cell carcinoma syndrome. Don’t join the online support group, because the news of all kinds of surgeries to remove tumors will terrify you. I’m praying this child doesn’t have this thing, and I’m also laughing at the fact that Scott and I are basically Charles’ Darwin’s wet dream, as far as genetics go. Our poor kids.
Our foster daughter left a month ago. It was our choice. It was too much for me. It feels good to say that, that it was too much for me and she needed someone who could give her more. She’s now with a sibling with a family member, so it worked well for everyone.
There’s a fly on my shoe. This fly has been tormenting me for the last three days. That fly is a lot like OCD. The only time I don’t notice it is when I rest. I drop my daughter off at preschool without having to walk in, and yesterday, even through major social anxiety, I volunteered in her classroom. I did it for her because my anxiety will not win. The director of the preschool said, “I am so glad you’re here!” and I nearly burst into tears. Her husband of a quarter of a century died not long ago and she shared about some of her struggles. It made me feel less alone. It made me feel seen.
One of the really hard things about mental illness is that no one else can see it on the outside. As Steve Harvey said during a part of the interview that didn’t air, of course, “Well, you look fine. You’re a beautiful woman and you haven’t lost a leg or anything.” I quipped back, and I don’t know where it came from, “OK, Steve, let’s say you have diabetes. You don’t need medication and you haven’t lost a leg, YET. What’s your problem? Like you said, it’s just a matter of mind over matter, and sometimes people just want to be victims!”
It was one of those moments I wish I could have all of the time. The one where I know what to say in social situations instead of awkwardly asking people questions I wonder if I’ve already asked them. My brain feels in a fog.
We’re going to Seattle for some days while my cousin stays here with the kids. I’m beyond excited, but of course I Feel guilty for leaving them…