There isn't, in fact, a dead shrew in the bathroom; but I'm expecting one at any minute.
All this *stuff* is cluttering up my head. What I want to do is be sitting here writing another chunk of my story. I seem to stew on it for a while and then splurge five thousand words at a time. But all the other things overwhelm me and I feel like I'm drowning even when I'm just sitting writing this and drinking tea.
I think I need a morale officer.
Alternatively, I think I might need to offload some more of my responsibilities. The livestock down at Ma's is still a big stress for me - because we're not on site, things happen and we aren't there to deal with them in person. I am seriously considering giving up the large fowl, or at least only keeping a breeding quartet of Barnevelders, just to keep the line ticking along.
I know I beat myself up about things I can't control. I hear Ma's voice in my head when I feel like this, saying 'I don't know what you DO all day, dear!' and it makes me doubt myself. B says I'm being ridiculous and that what we do all day is what any family with two small children, a micro-holding with lots of livestock, a part-time business selling eggs regularly and a severely life-limited child would do. And that I should shove my self-doubt back in to it's box and lock it, firmly.
I'm even beating myself up for not using this space mostly for humour, as I did with ducking for apples. Instead it's turning more and more in to space for a therapeutic brain-dump; and that being the case, I'm grateful for those of you who have stayed with me. Sometimes, I don't feel that I have the humour in me any more. I look back at some of my posts from five or ten years ago and I it seems as if I am reading the life of stranger.
These days my main aim is to get from dawn to dusk without a meltdown by one or all of us, on whatever level - physical, emotional, spiritual. I feel dull and I feel empty. I know logically that it's because my entire system is running in 'survival mode' and that it's entirely understandable given our circumstances blah blah blah. But on days like this, when the sun is shining and the blackbirds are feeding their babies in the bay tree outside the window and the whole garden is bursting with life, I deeply resent that I no longer have the energy to respond to that in a positive way.
That's enough, I think. I will go and plant some tomato seeds instead of wallowing.
* which I can't do anyway because the sawmill has let me down for about the fifth week running with our delivery