This morning, school: 2 hours, Joseph’s nursery induction. Tiny children. Painting. Skipping pages. Toys.
Lunch: quivering wreck. Couldn’t even feed myself or listen to Joseph. Half-noticed Frasier playing.
This afternoon, school: 1 hour, Lily’s first play. Heat. Picnic. Noise.
So grateful for help and for the opportunity to get away home by myself before I melt into a bundle of nerves. Last night I had a good idea for a book. Or was it yesterday?
Usually writing is my creative outlet, my scream against the night. Now my trembling fingers are sulking and my mind is ewdiufhwleuhfxn. This aches soooo much I just want it over. Please words. Why can my son watch a whole film now, but I cannot? What am I even so angry about? Will it be long before the next chocolate hit? Is school really so nerve-wracking? How can I have a cheerful conversation one minute and be rooted to the spot the next? Does it show? Should it? If I push the bubble too much, will it pop?
I suspect I am going to need to lie low this weekend and let God pick up all my broken pieces, and disturb my muse a little more. Last night I had a good idea for a book. Maybe I can make this happen. One word at a time.
…I did not even consider myself worthy to come to you. But say the word, and my servant will be healed…