Monday, August 13, 2012

Picking Up the Pieces

I feel like whining. Too many minor owwies have ganged up on me at once. :(. I tossed all night (and I have the sleep chart to prove it) and some moron was hammering something loudly at 6 am outside. It sounded like it was on my fence right beside my bedroom window, but I think it was actually creepy new tenant next door.

My migraine is coming back with a vengeance, but at least I had the presence of mind to find a heating pad for my tummy to get some semblance of rest. Yay for that. It was still warm this morning when I got up. I'm dizzy from the migraine. *sigh* My upcoming two hours of standing are going to be awful. No amount of Tylenol helps lately. Grr.

Today is my dear youngest nephew's birthday, and he has already had to deal with something awful for today. Not at all his fault, just his cross to bear. He's really too young for that kind of burden, and it keeps me anxiously worried for him. If I think about it too much it will really upset me, and I still have to finish my work day. (Lunchtime, if you were wondering.)

I feel like I let him down last night when I couldn't keep taxiing him around, but I started feeling wretched and I had to go home to lie down. Sometimes this problem is easy to get through, and then some months it is a real horror. This one is pretty much holding me underwater. Can you see the bubbles yet?

It's the sort of thing that makes you think, oh, I wish I had my mother to hold me and tell me it's going to be all right. Problem is, I don't remember my mother ever being there when I was sick. When I was sick as a child, I was alone in my bedroom until it was time for medicine, temp check, or feeding time. As far as the babying goes, I remember sitting in her lap watching the Wizard of Oz one time, scared the witch was going to come through the TV and get me.

Don't misunderstand; I don't mind affectionate touching. But I'm probably not as used to it as most people are. Affectionate, close families always make me wonder how I screwed things up in my own family. It's gotta be me, right? After all, things didn't go to hell in a hand basket until my arrival in the world.

Or it could have just been coincidence, right? No need to take the weight of the world on my own shoulders, especially if I don't want anyone else to try to assume a similar yet equally misplaced blame.

I guess things just fall apart sometimes. All we can do is figure out how to pick up and rearrange the pieces, and not blame ourselves for other people's choices and mistakes.

With that said, I need a hug. And somebody else to rub my tummy. ;)

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