~*~*~
It's nothing major.
I haven't had to visit the local food pantry since November.
My rent, utilities and student loan payments are current.
I have a job.
Cam and I are both healthy.
In the grand scheme of things, I have no room to complain. None. I know that, and knowing that evokes waves of guilt.
I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread.
One paycheck. Hell, two unpaid sick days, and it will all collapse. A minor car repair will send me into financial crisis. Summer camp registration is looming and resources are slim.
I am tired. Tired of living life this way - the threat of ONE.MORE.THING crumbling the house of cards. The anxiety - the constant worry - I'm not as good at hiding it as I once was.
Cam said to me the other night, "Mom, you always think of the absolute worst outcome, even when there is no probability it will happen!" He's right. I do.
I do this because I've convinced myself that somehow, if I can just predict the worse possible outcome, and then it should happen, it won't catch me off guard. I'll be able to handle it because the element of surprise will be eliminated.
If it doesn't happen? Well? Then I'll be pleasantly surprised and even if the outcome is undesirable, it won't be as bad as it could have been. Viola! It's a win either way.
Of course, spending all of this time "preparing" myself for Cam's cab to crash on the way to school, for my employer to fire me for one too many mistakes, for a direct deposit not to hit my account on time ... all of this "preparing"? It keeps my brain from doing what it needs to do. I am constantly distracted - when driving, when working, when walking through the grocery store.
"Just stop it" doesn't work. I cannot (if you prefer, will not, since everything is under my control, right?) just stop. Trying to stop gets me right back to that place that evokes those waves of guilt.
I should be strong.
I should be grateful.
I shouldn't worry.
I think I'm ready to admit that maybe this is bigger than me and the fifth of vodka that has become my constant companion.
It's nothing major.I haven't had to visit the local food pantry since November.
My rent, utilities and student loan payments are current.
I have a job.
Cam and I are both healthy.
In the grand scheme of things, I have no room to complain. None. I know that, and knowing that evokes waves of guilt.
I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread.
One paycheck. Hell, two unpaid sick days, and it will all collapse. A minor car repair will send me into financial crisis. Summer camp registration is looming and resources are slim.
I am tired. Tired of living life this way - the threat of ONE.MORE.THING crumbling the house of cards. The anxiety - the constant worry - I'm not as good at hiding it as I once was.
Cam said to me the other night, "Mom, you always think of the absolute worst outcome, even when there is no probability it will happen!" He's right. I do.
I do this because I've convinced myself that somehow, if I can just predict the worse possible outcome, and then it should happen, it won't catch me off guard. I'll be able to handle it because the element of surprise will be eliminated.
If it doesn't happen? Well? Then I'll be pleasantly surprised and even if the outcome is undesirable, it won't be as bad as it could have been. Viola! It's a win either way.
Of course, spending all of this time "preparing" myself for Cam's cab to crash on the way to school, for my employer to fire me for one too many mistakes, for a direct deposit not to hit my account on time ... all of this "preparing"? It keeps my brain from doing what it needs to do. I am constantly distracted - when driving, when working, when walking through the grocery store.
"Just stop it" doesn't work. I cannot (if you prefer, will not, since everything is under my control, right?) just stop. Trying to stop gets me right back to that place that evokes those waves of guilt.
I should be strong.
I should be grateful.
I shouldn't worry.
I think I'm ready to admit that maybe this is bigger than me and the fifth of vodka that has become my constant companion.
~*~*~
