The Saharan dust cloud has arrived on the Gulf Coast. It is hazy here, it’s been overcast for days. It rained all week, plus the dust haze, and I’m really, really sick of quarantine. I am having a hard time not feeling sorry for myself – no help, no one to take the kids away for a few days, even one night, an afternoon. Liam is up and climbing into bed to snuggle with me at 6:00 every morning, Jack is watching shows with me til his 10pm bedtime, and during the eight child-free hours in between I constant, fretful dreams. I am working harder than ever for clients day and night, and right now it’s for less pay than a government lawyer while boys swarm all over me, and I keep thinking WHY ON EARTH AM I DOING THIS.
Oh, I don’t really feel like venting, anyhow. I don’t really feel like much. I feel like I’m sinking, a little bit. I’ll rally. It’s just been relentless, and the resilience is taxed, overstretched. The Saharan dust haze has pressed down what little cheer I had left. I feel a bit squashed – rolled out thin, like a crepe. Today I sanded my foot calluses and did a charcoal face mask and did Pilates and rolled out with the foam roller, and I’m having tonic with lime and no alcohol and praying for good sleep tonight. I also ordered a bike trainer and a theracane and medicine ball for my little home gym/corner of my bedroom. We shall see if these little tricks revive the spirits.
Take care! Those sound like good tries. I can’t imagine working law firm hours in this )&@#storm – you are amazing.
Oh thank you! I don’t feel amazing – I mostly feel behind, under constant time pressure, snappish, and barely keeping it together. I’m glad I’m faking it well . . . 😉