Serenity

Those of you that know me even a little bit know that I am crazy-pants.  I really am, although I get super irritated when my husband uses the adjective on me.  (It's actually been a few years since he has because the last time it happened, I bit his head off, figuratively.  Lesson learned.)  In the interest of embracing my particular brand of insanity, I fill my calendar and my free time and make project lists and plans.  I've been over this before.  I mask and avoid depression by over-stimulation.

I need a little serenity.  I need someone to tell me how to recharge in a way that my lunatic mind can comprehend and implement.  My midwife told me to take an hour every week to myself, and that Matthew should do the same.  We didn't, but when I do get a piddly hour alone, it feels too brief.  I can't even stop stressing about what to do next when I am alone.  I rarely nap, and when I do I feel guilty about what I could have been doing. 

People around me seem to have actual time.  That's really what it comes down to, I suppose.  I just have to wait.  My issue with waiting is: If I get hit by a bus tomorrow, what do I have to show for all this?  I have these two beautiful children who won't even remember me.  And that is all.

Today is an off day.  I need some hope.