I’ve been sitting in the same place for thirty minutes thinking about how to move. What do I do? Why is my heart beating so fast? Why do I worry… About worrying?
Ok. My husband did injure himself swinging from a tree. He will require surgery next Wednesday.I only recovered from neck surgery myself seven months ago. Anxiety wants me to tell you that we’re in our early forties and already feeling as if we’re falling apart.
Someone mentioned to me that’s what it’s like getting older. Falling the fuck apart. You break shit. You lose shit. You lose your shit. You hit shit. You fall on shit. Fall from shit and sometimes you fall in shit. Oh don’t forget if you haven’t already you also might sit in your own shit.
So in the next week I’ll have to switch the rolls with my hubby. My husband Brock, he always takes care of me. He is my rock. I know I always expect so much out of him and have recently come to recognize, just how much he really does for me. Not only does he deal with me and my closest pal anxiety but he does most of the drivin and, helps me through my moments of mental and physical failure due to multiple sclerosis.
It’s like we’re in each other’s shoes now. I now see how horribly frightening it is to see the person you love hurting. It’s not just needing help and recovery. It’s genuine fear of losing the love of your life.
This new phase of life is pa-retty fucked up. Thanks life, give me this brain, this body, this family, these children, my pets, all this cool breathing stuff… Then make us all rot.