It feels like Thanksgiving was a month ago. For the past few years, my alcohol consumption has been limited to whatever is handed to me at a celebration, but my stress levels were so high on Thanksgiving that no less than six drinks were put in my hand and I did not feel a single one of them. It did short out the constantly scrolling to-do list in my brain for a few hours, though. I will jot this down as another bio-hack nobody should follow, right under using acetaminophen as a mood stabilizer.
I did not take any pictures or try a fun new recipe, but I did scrub the bathroom floor and cook a perfect turkey, so I am counting it as a hosting triumph.
On Sunday I went to pick up my painting from the gallery and inexplicably burst into tears while sitting in traffic on the way home, so I drove to my mom's house and sat crying through her box of tissues while she put a tray of tea and cookies down in front of me. I am not a person who cries much, generally speaking, so the past 6 months have been very confusing for my eyeballs. The other day I watched a tiktok of a mom picking up her teenage son for the last time, and when he wrapped his legs around her waist like a toddler it destroyed me, I was sobbing for an hour. I teared up just now, just writing about it. This is mutiny of the parasympathetic system.
Things downshifted when December arrived, eyeballs notwithstanding. My worry hardened into determination. The advent calendar became a countdown to departure. It feels like when you've waited all day for your event to be called, and now it's time to step up to the block and wait for the signal to take your mark.
I am ready.
Indeed. I think everything you are going through is absolutely normal which doesn't mean not profoundly difficult. Dear Susie gives good advice.
ReplyDelete