So we're getting closer and closer to figuring out what's 'wrong' with me. We think we've cracked it but it's early days. I don't have a terribly sympathetic set of doctors....they already think I'm a raging hypochondriac so going to them with a self-diagnosis is always best avoided. But no one has diagnosed me and they can't diagnose me unless I say something is wrong...therein lies the problem.
This should feel good. It should feel like hunting big game...drawing closer and closer, so tantalizingly close I can hear it's heartbeat and smell its sweat. But it doesn't. It feels like circling the drain, getting further and further down, trying desperately to fight the tide. Because if it is what we think it is, it's not a case of me needing to pull my socks up and get in a good headspace and work out my issues and plow through. Which, much as I hate it and am bad at it, is pretty much the only way I've survived so far. I would have to stop plowing through and start accepting limits, and I'm just not sure how well I can do that.
This morning I am so tired my body aches all over. A.B decided that 4am was an awesome time to wake up for the day, and I hadn't slept, counting on her not waking up til 7:30 so I could rest until then and go to sleep earlier tonight. 3 and a half hours of awake-baby more than I was counting on had me shattered by the time 7:30 rolled around and Mr A left for work. It's 9:40am and I'm near sick with exhaustion. My vision won't keep up with where my head is turning, my muscles feel like they're unravelling, and my stomach is heaving. I need sleep but I can't have it and that's the worst. The aching resentment of being denied what I want so much.
Bah. It's only 9 hours til Mr A gets home. I'll just have to survive somehow. Pity the foo' who cold-calls me today....