Words don't work - the whine problem.
When I open my mouth a whine slips out.
I can't get out from under the steady stream of horrors. For example, the heat isn't working at the office.
I can't even. I am paralyzed. I haven't the foggiest clue what to do. And neither does anyone else. I just feel like shrugging and saying "well, darn, guess we need to walk away from the $250,000 investment, then."
I am a humongous ball of need and I have no where to turn for help.
What friends I do have are not approachable with the level of need I have. I am hanging out with two women whose husband's have each just left them and someone who is freshly home from a stem cell transplant. Because their level of woundedness and need is my level. We can be broken and pitiful together.
Except, of course, "hanging out" means seeing each other once every two weeks. Because I am still working twelve hour days. And I have a brutal chest cold that means I can't go near my sick friend without killing her.
I used to write stories at night about my blessings. My husband loved me. I had a hot tub. Things like that.
I can't do it anymore. The only thing that brings me joy is my fifteen year old son, and that is twinged with bittersweet knowledge that he will soon be gone and I will be left with the autistic dog and three buildings.
I tried calling a massage therapist to schedule a massage. I tried the light box. I am watching my diet, buying myself flowers, even working out somewhat regularly (when not hacking my lungs out.)
But I am not digging myself out and just can't see options. I am just stuck whining.
Ideas?
I can't get out from under the steady stream of horrors. For example, the heat isn't working at the office.
I can't even. I am paralyzed. I haven't the foggiest clue what to do. And neither does anyone else. I just feel like shrugging and saying "well, darn, guess we need to walk away from the $250,000 investment, then."
I am a humongous ball of need and I have no where to turn for help.
What friends I do have are not approachable with the level of need I have. I am hanging out with two women whose husband's have each just left them and someone who is freshly home from a stem cell transplant. Because their level of woundedness and need is my level. We can be broken and pitiful together.
Except, of course, "hanging out" means seeing each other once every two weeks. Because I am still working twelve hour days. And I have a brutal chest cold that means I can't go near my sick friend without killing her.
I used to write stories at night about my blessings. My husband loved me. I had a hot tub. Things like that.
I can't do it anymore. The only thing that brings me joy is my fifteen year old son, and that is twinged with bittersweet knowledge that he will soon be gone and I will be left with the autistic dog and three buildings.
I tried calling a massage therapist to schedule a massage. I tried the light box. I am watching my diet, buying myself flowers, even working out somewhat regularly (when not hacking my lungs out.)
But I am not digging myself out and just can't see options. I am just stuck whining.
Ideas?