It’s 1:30 p.m. on a Monday.  That means I’m in the home stretch to my weekend, and boy do I need it.  The last 18 hours at work have been nothing but slog, slog, slog.  Either the stupid dictators are whispering, or the background noise is so loud that it wouldn’t matter if they were yelling, or their accents are so  heavy I have no idea what they’re actually saying and trusting the speech rec more than I should, or the medical terms are from some obscure specialty of medicine that I’ve never dealt with before, so I’m having to look up every second word to make sure of just what it is, or the sound quality of the entire dictation sounds like the whole thing has been run through a lawnmower before it uploaded.  In other words, exhausting.  Sometimes, after six hours down here, I feel like I have been beaten with sticks and run over by large vehicles.  That’s what I’m battling today.

In other news, GS1 seems to be imploding up in Denver.  He’s called me again, weeping and sobbing over the phone, begging to come down here and live.  I am trying very hard not to take sides, and support my daughter as much as I can, given that she’s nearly ready to pop out the next (and hopefully last) baby, but it’s hard.  GS1 is apparently doing very well in school, making friends, not getting into trouble outside of the house, but at home, according to his mother, he’s eating all the food, breaking into their room, having people in the house (expressly forbidden) and in general being what sounds like a regular teenager (he’ll turn 13 in May).  I listen and make sympathetic noises.  On the plus side, she hasn’t asked for any money at all, and she only calls when she’s rather at wit’s end.  I still can’t help but feel little twinges of perverse satisfaction when she rants and raves, “I’m DONE! He has no respect for me!” blah blah blah.  It’s not that I don’t care.  I’m sorry that GS1 is having a tough time at home, but seriously, I think those kinds of experiences are what motivate people to get up and get out on their own.  I think I was too easy on my daughter.  I think my mom was too easy on me.  Suffering pushes you to ambition.  Maybe I should have suffered more and I wouldn’t be sitting here stagnating.

Did I say that?  Yes I did.  That’s how I feel these days. Stagnant. Lethargic, like some kind of noxious backwater that’s been separated from the vital current and now just sits and grows algae and stinks. Whew, that’s harsh, but I finally just put my finger on what’s been up for a while.

I’m better from my flu. I’m back at the gym, doing some form of exercise most days, but I just can’t seem to get INTO anything.  I’ve quit writing for the most part, obviously, since this is my first blog post in a few weeks.  I havent’ cooked anything in ages other than the most basic stuff.  I am just not motivated.  I get all these plans in my head, and then when it comes to getting any of it done, poof, everything just evaporates like rain on the Pueblo prairie.  And of course, I start being really hard on myself, which helps not at all.

Things are fine with G and me–although this stuff with GS1 starts her on her tumble over the “What if” cliff.  What if we have to raise him? What if she calls social services? What if he runs away? What if, what if, what if.  Right now, I’m just like, if “it” happens (whatever “it” is) then we’ll just deal with it.  Don’t we always deal with it? Yes, we do.  So, what makes the “what if” so scary?  Every single thing that has dropped into my lap, I have handled.  Maybe not in the best way, but it was taken care of and time passed, and things changed, and people grew up or moved on and everything smoothed over, like water closing up after you toss a big rock in it.  I simply can no longer waste my time on thinking about things that will probably never happen.  I just trust in my ability to handle anything.  That, at least, makes me feel better.  I know this, too, shall pass. It’s just kind of icky when you’re in the middle of it.

So, the upshot is, that I offered GS1 to come down by himself and stay here over spring break, which here is the last week of March.  That is, I would go up and get him and bring him back.  Daughter is having some complications with the pregnancy and may very well have the baby by then.  Honestly, I simply cannot understand what in the HELL possessed her to get pregnant again, but that’s one of those things I just have to let go of.  Every. Day.  She is going to have to have surgery after the baby to remove a large cyst from one of her ovaries and I am PRAYING she will go through with having her tubes tied and be over it.  I can’t even continue on about this, it makes me so crazy to think about it and I’ve been doing a good job about not obsessing, so I will continue with that.

Right now, I’m feeling the need of a grilled cheese sandwich, so I’m going to go upstairs, make myself some lunch and go sit outside in the sun.  It’s about 60 degrees here and maybe that will help my disposition.  Such a nice post to come back with, right?  Happy days.


3 thoughts on “Battling

  1. everyone has burn out once in a while…when you are ready to write and cook again you fear there you always have started again when you have a hiatus in your life…sometimes age or circumstances impact us in unexpected now how to roll with it…keep rollin girl friend…

  2. for some reason i came up anonyous..not so !! this is Jill..hearing you all the way down here in texas…love ya

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