I’ve decided I’m gonna be a bit freer on this here blog. I’m feeling a bit more isolated than usual these days and I feel like I need to connect/write/talk more.
Truth is, I don’t get out as much as I used to. Skye is often CLOSED or some shit. I sign up for things out of the house that are canceled. For reasons. Like I’m the only one interested.
I get very excited when my PAs arrive in the morning. (I have two people who come in on different days to help me Isla-wrangle.) The mothering is mine, because she is, but there’s some physical shit that I can’t do. I’d like to do ALL THE THINGS and worry every day that I am not ENOUGH. And if you’d like to bash me for having someone open her juice or cut her strawberries, or lift her out of the bath, then go ahead. Because it’s nothing worse than I’ve said to myself.
Whoah. Tangent. Sorry, not sorry.
My point is. I get excited when PEOPLE come in to my house.
I’m like HI PEOPLE. Allow me to tell you ALL THE THINGS. I can be a bit full-on. Sorry, really sorry. I even annoy myself.
And so. I’m here. Hi.
Some current truths:
Isla and Neil are indeed my everything. I’m trying to work on that, so I don’t annoy them. And so I get myself back. But for now. There’s us.
I miss my friends. In Edinburgh. In New York. Anywhere that I am not.
Every time Neil goes away for work weeks, I feel bad. I miss him, yes. I know he’s working for us, yes. I know it could be worse. He’s not in the military. I mostly feel bad because everyone hauls out their calendars to make sure I’m ‘covered’ overnight. In case I’ve fallen and I can’t get up. Which has never happened. *knocks on head, like it’s wood.*
My pre-and-postnatal Anxiety has never gone away. These days, it’s Generalised. Which is a heap of fun. I take a teeny tiny green-and-yellow thing called Prozac with my morning coffee.
I used to cry every day. Worry that I haven’t memorised Isla’s face enough. I still do those things. But now I’m medicated. The crying jags are shorter.
The coffee is stronger and I do three cups a day.
I ask Neil to hide the junk food, and then get mad when I can’t reach the cheese balls. And the marshmallows. But I never eat them together.
I worry that I sit too much. And I feel bad when I stretch out on my bed.
I get really involved in TV shows and books after Isla goes to sleep. I’m taking it almost personally that Bloodline is canned after season 3.
And it sucks that Neil has another Edinburgh week this week. And he had one last week. And we won’t be together for our wedding anniversary on Thursday. I should grow up. It could be worse. But it still sucks.
So, that’s all my shit for now.
How are you?