Somewhere along the road that is my life, I have developed a terrible habit.
I am getting very good at avoiding things I don’t want to deal with. It’s really not a very attractive trait in an adult. I can avoid doing dishes, and laundry, and going to the grocery store. I avoid answering the phone, and thinking about medical bills, and leaving the house. So far, I’ve successfully avoided talking about or thinking about our upcoming trip to Canada, so as to stave off the inevitable panic attack. Sometimes, I even avoid showering. Yeah. Yeesh.
I have become a self-inflicted shut in. I save up all of the energy I have for my three 12-hour shifts a week, and try to survive every moment in between. I am hoarding sleep like a pack-rat. Any time I’m not sleeping, I’m thinking about when I’m going to be sleeping again, counting down the minutes and day-dreaming of my next nap.
My parenting skills have been lacking, and I’m thankful my son is pretty easygoing. I’m grateful for my wonderfully understanding and helpful husband, who has been pulling his own weight as well as my own. I’m ready to be over this, and as happy as I am that I am pregnant, STILL pregnant (9 weeks 2 days!) I can’t wait to get some normalcy back into my life.
There is hope, I believe. I keep telling myself that as soon as I get out of the first trimester, I will have more energy. I’ll be a better mom, better wife, better friend. More grown up, more of a person. I hope it’s true, I really do. Because I’m actually getting kind of sick of myself.