This is cry for help. 

I’m not sure how I can be expected to do this.  I feel like I’m being crushed.  I feel like I’m going through the motions.

I can’t tell you how many times I yelled at the girls today.  Ella asked me tonight after her bath “Why are you mad all day today?”

Well, let’s see here…I feel overwhelmed by all that needs done around here.  Dog ran away because she was let out by a little who just couldn’t wait to get outside to play.  (We found her)  Amelia peed on my chair.  Again.  And then in the toy room.  Twice.  Moving is up in the air.  I want to but I don’t think I can do it alone.  Physically or mentally.  All my friends appear to be overwhelmed by their own lives.

I can’t do it. I can’t handle one more thing.

So let’s add that I think I have made myself sick.  Chronically.  Or I could be imagining it.  But I can’t fathom that this much stress for this long is good for me.  So I shoot an email to friendly family doctor and he has yet to get back to me.  All I’m asking for is a little bloodwork to appease my crazy mind. 

So this is a cry for help.  I need to fix things and I feel buried.


3 thoughts on “Buried.

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