I am so mad and frustrated that I cannot focus enough to write coherently. Maybe it’s because I’m not sleeping well. Maybe it’s because I’m feeling more than overwhelmed. I can hear somebody saying, “Sarah, Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (and it’s all small stuff)” Oh yeah? Well, come over here and say that to my face. I’ll knock your lights out.
Now, I haven’t ever really punched anyone except one person in self-defense a LONG time ago. And that was a pretty girly punch. I have dreams where I’m punching things to protect something I love but it nearly always feels like I’m punching oatmeal. Not very satisfying. I have always thought that places like Children’s Hospital and the Ronald McDonald House really missed the boat on not putting a punching bag in some dark corner for parents to beat the crap out of. It would be so cathartic. And, if you figured out a way to generate power from parents’ anger, you could keep whole societies in electricity for years, much like “Monster’s Inc.” using children’s screams for energy. See what my mind does when it gets no rest? You thought I was weird before? You ain’t seen nothing yet. I’m sure it’s just going to get more entertaining in future months.
My sleep pattern over the last few years has been less than stellar but it has gotten way worse over the last couple of weeks. Duh. I wonder why? I’ve always been a worrier despite the fact that worrying usually just makes an average situation worse. I used to wake up in the middle of the night worrying about stupid stuff that really wasn’t that important and while I’m glad that I’ve gotten over worrying about stupid stuff I know have something larger to worry about. Despite my attempts to self-soothe I just cannot find a way around not worrying about Ben’s illness. If it would go away, I’d have a much easier time not worrying about it. But it won’t do that. It just won’t go away.
Several years ago, someone gave me a copy of that stupid book, “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff (and it’s all small stuff)” That book was an International Best Seller. I remember reading it and thinking that it was baloney. It made me mad. There might be degrees of “small stuff to not worry about” but this does not fall into any of those categories. Oh, I understand the need to have hope and look on the bright side and all that jazz, but honestly? Don’t worry about this? I’d like to see you try. My children are my everything. I’m mad that this is happening to them. And, happening to me. No mother should ever have to go through this. Ever.
Aaaaaarrrgh! I was hoping that writing would make it better. Would make me relax enough to maybe drift back to sleep. But I’m so jumbled and erratic and tired and scared and angry. I cannot grab onto any one emotion long enough to work through it. FRICK! I just want to punch something. Although I understand that it would be a very girly punch and probably not very cathartic at all.
I’ve heard it all before so there are no words to soothe me at this time. I’m not asking for anyone to make me feel better. At least I’m not today. I think I kinda need to be angry for a while. Besides, it’ll gear me up for the fight that’s about to begin, the fight of getting Ben well. And I know I recently told all of you to not be afraid to talk to me – that I just wanted your love and support – but I would highly recommend to NOT tell me today that God won’t give me more than I can handle. While that might be true, those words will NOT be helpful.