This gets old
Today is another one of those days where I’ve spent much of it having a mini-panic attack. I don’t know if there’s actually a diagnostic term for something like that but that’s as best as I can describe it. Either way, it has paralyzed me for most of the morning and it’s getting old. Really old. The only thing I’m thankful for is that I manage to keep it in check enough that I don’t take it out on others.
I’m feeling torn about mentioning these sorts of things online, open to the public to see. On the one hand I feel like it’s no different from suffering from some other physical disorder but I also fall back wondering how the stigma might affect me. I really shouldn’t put much thought to it but with the world and how it operates, it does cross my mind. Oh well. If nothing else maybe it will make someone out there feel a little less lonely. It doesn’t make me any less a person, a mother, a wife, a friend or a member of the community. I’ve dealt with it this long without any drug or alcohol abuse, I don’t abuse my children and I have loving friends. I’d say with what I go through mentally, that’s pretty good.
I heard from the Realtor today and we’ll be getting the keys at noon on Saturday. That made me excited because then I can get in, take a good look around, document things on the checklist and start prepping for painting and moving. I think part of the anxiety is deep down knowing that this time the move away from this home will be permanent. I try not to get too caught up with it but it’s hard sometimes. The biggest problem is that we’re leaving not on our terms and we wouldn’t even be in this situation if it weren’t for our good intentions. I know, “the path to hell” and all that but still. The lesson this has taught me is that you listen closely to your gut and that sacrifice on that level for anyone other than your spouse or children is probably not wise. Maybe that sounds cold or cynical but there you go.
After dealing with vomit yet again last night, I’m looking forward to getting a washer and dryer back in the house. I joked with the guys at the laundromat (two men, one the owner, take turns on the weekends running the place) that I’ll have to bring rugs in on a regular basis just to keep in touch and get out of the house. It’s not a big deal anymore for me to go to the laundromat (outside of the cost) but having a washer in the house would have been mighty handy for the clothes and bedding I sprayed off last night. I could have put them straight in; I miss that.
