Dickie December.

Dickie December? Yes. Its funny because my kid requested two pieces of Dickie merchandise for Christmas. and also, because life is dick-ish currently.

Nothing is really wrong, no worries.

I had a list of beautiful words, to say, to think about, to feel, and I was going to give it to you, but instead I fell into sobs in the Target parking lot. lots of them.

and herein lies todays post.

none of us are really okay. its been too long, we are missing people. we are getting old. we know that people are suffering in big ways around us, if not in our own home. My kids want game systems and there might be people hungry on my street right now. (sidenote: the parents of my kid’s pack have decided not to buy it, so i am granted reprieve from the fear that my kid will be the only one without- which was what was driving me deep down. the fear of being the failure mom.)

I’m sure that people in healthy relationships are relying on each other, and yes, i think that probably helps a whole lot. So I am missing that little bit.

But I’ve got great resources, and I’m 46 and I’ve been through this kind of thing before. In the car, while crying, I contacted my health insurance to find out who i’m covered to see as far as therapists. Texted a friend, and gave up on going in to Target. I hadn’t made a list and I would have spent a bunch of money on myself when really, I need to fucking focus on getting Christmas done, and not buy myself another scarf/lipstick/sweater I’m not really going to wear, just ’cause its pretty. I literally don’t wear any makeup at all, and I’m coveting lipsticks lately.

WTF.

The subject of the overwhelm is what we all feel right now PLUS:

I stepped on the scale and I’m five pounds OVER the number I cannot mention but have stayed at for an entire year. I have glaucoma and spent the morning having talks with my doctor and having stinging stuff put in my eye and facing the fact that on the day i can’t drive after the appt, i’m just going to sit in the car because I refuse to ask my 75 year old mother to drive me home. I’m single momming and deeply worried that I am not enough. For me, the anxiety of the covid era has WAY WAY exaggerated my low self-esteem and I heard myself talking to myself (yes, this is a thing) about how I didn’t know why I was taking this new job because I would do a crap job anyhow. (oh?) I’m in a new and very beginning stage dating situation which might not even be dating honestly and I can’t offload all this crap on him just yet. (see previous self-esteem problem).

Its truly all interwoven. And I’m just succumbing to it today. The kids are at their dad’s til 8 or so, so I can go take a bath and work on re-writing the thing thats been edited five times, again. Essentially I am removing my self and my writing voice from it, which is what I’ve been slowly realizing. Just erasing. bummer.

So there. thats a truth. I have enough. I give. I’m okay almost all the time. But I’m worn thin. We need to be holding hands right now, but a text message will do.

(not me. really, you don’t need to text me, i’m heading upwards. send a text to everyone on your list. do it.)

There is still joy. There is. Look at this photo. I’m the biggest goob you know, really. And the man who I’m doing all that re-editing for sent me a hundred bucks today because he knows how hard i’ve been working. I’m going to take a bath now. Breathe deep, my friend told me. Breathing interupts the anxiety/overwhelm. Just Breathe.