Yeah so, apparently teething children mean I need to hide from blogging for a few weeks — who knew? It’s because when I hit a certain level of frazzled or stressed, writing about it ceases to be cathartic. Instead, I start flipping tables mentally because I’m sick and tired of being that level of trying to hold it together when I really, really am not. Which isn’t to say that I’m having any episodes that I’m aware of, just that… I’m tired, and REALLY want to be left alone instead of being screamed at all day by a fussy baby. It’s not quite literally all day, but it feels like that when it’s the first thing I have to deal with in the morning until like, noon. For a week. Every day.
At least it’s Christmastime now, which means other people can deal with the kiddo for longer stretches of the day, ha ha. And really? I know how much better I am this time around when I am mainly holding it together, even when my brain goes into scumbag mode like last night. I’d gone into the kitchen, and I was pissed because there was a full sink of dishes (when I’d already cleared one that day), and the table was mounded high with stuff, and other things, and my brain hit a PTSD moment remembering my childhood, and basically being used like slave labour (to include forcing me to take a job and then pay for the care of one of my siblings atop chores). And most of y’all know the deal when the brain finds something like that to niggle onto. It clings and it sucks it in like some sort of leech and leaves you pulsating with all the poisons. But! I didn’t flip out. I didn’t scream (except at a plastic bag wrapped around a chair leg that was resisting being moved). I didn’t start sobbing, or try to find something to break. I instead expressed my upset to my husband, and felt… not exactly better, but defused. A year ago, I would have been the aforementioned wreck (and not because of pregnancy hormones or anything). Having said that, I’m fervently hoping that I can get a few hours to myself in the next couple of days, because I’m really freaking worn thin.
Of course, I also have to, in fairness, point out that we went to a party on Wednesday. It was a lovely time with good friends and food, and I went to bed later than usual (as I do every other Wednesday anyways for the same reason; it was with my Stitch ‘n Bitch group). And no, I don’t drink or anything — it’s just taking my meds late and going to bed late throws me off a bit. I made it worse this week by forgetting to set the alarm and waking up an hour late. No harm done in the day’s schedule really, but I wasn’t happy with myself either.
Oh yeah, and I’ve been having computer problems too. My graphics card had decided it was dying, and then decided it wasn’t, and that was eating up a lot of brain power. And then I used what tiny bit of brain power I actually could muster to get caught up on emails for The Bipolar Blogger Network. Yay for that being done (and welcome, new faces!), but man, does it take a lot out of me that I apparently didn’t actually have. Whups.
Ah well. At least it should be better for a few weeks. And if I’m lucky, the little one will cut that first nasty tooth over the break, and realise it’s not as bad as she thinks (and therefore, hopefully, spend less time grumping at me about something I can’t fix, ha ha).
Anyways, hope everyone is well out there.