My heels are digging in deep.
A few weeks back, I craved quiet. But I didn’t act on it. I failed to pull myself away, to hide out in a closet or something. Anything.
I’m being stubborn. A stubborn introvert. One who’s self-aware of her introverted needs but whose stubbornness just wants to push herself a little bit further.
Any day now, y’all. Any day now.
*insert explosion sound effect*
Each day that passes, I grow more and more frustrated. I lash out at the kids more. I’m even waking up with headaches.
The funnest part of all this is that I’m trying to finish up a short ebook I wrote for one of my other blogs, a book that outlines the steps I took a few years back to dig myself out of an anxious, stressed, and depressed state.
But I’m heading back that way. I can feel it.
I want to hide from everything, sleep the days away. I’m constantly looking for problems to solve, things to clean, blogs to read – anything to drown out my internal dialogue.
The trouble is this: I know what I need to do, but I don’t like being told what to do, not even if it’s self-directed.
Tears are bubbling up just under the surface, but I can’t get myself to break down and cry. Singing at the top of my lungs in the shower to some love songs or Christian music usually works, but not this time.
It feels like my armor has thickened, as if I’m painstakingly peeling back microscopically thin layers. One. At. A. Time.
The one thing that is guaranteed to start the water works (but I haven’t tried yet) would be some alone time with my husband, but I’m laughing at that thought because that is so impossible to pull off.
We have four kids, remember?
It used to be that we’d get time together once all the kids were in bed, but our oldest stays up until 10 pm these days and often unwinds while he enjoys some of the same shows my husband and I like (the curse of only having one tv).
And, honestly, my husband hardly stays up past 9 pm. He regularly crashes by then because he wakes up at 4 am to head off for work. It used to annoy me, but I’ve gotten over it because I know he isn’t trying to sleep on purpose. These days, I genuinely encourage him to go to bed and stop trying to wait up for me.
So, while I know that there are things I can do to help myself (meditation, journaling, going outside, etc.), the ONE thing that I want most is his undivided attention.
And I’m so far down this road of feels that all he needs to do is ask me if I’m okay and I’ll start snot crying immediately.
Having known him for more than half my life, it only makes sense that, as my confidant, I’d prescribe him as my cure, my remedy to my temporary insanity.
He’s the person I’ve shared all my life with, and all my feelings. As corny as it sounds, he’s my best friend. What girl wouldn’t want her best friend to just give her a hug and tell her everything will be alright?