The last few weeks have been…umm…how do we put this…really fucking brutal.
The burnout is real, the exhaustion is insane, and I am just so…I don’t know. Tired.
I know I haven’t talked about it a ton, but I’m actually doing mostly really well with the sobriety/not drinking thing. After the first 2 weeks of feeling like absolute garbage physically, I started feeling a tiny bit better.
I have had a few drinks, but nothing crazy, and even when I did have a drink, it was still way less than my typical amount. March 30th, when something traumatic happened, April 4th..my birth son’s birthday, and last night. Because I deserved one, because 3 kids with 3 separate medical emergencies last week kicked my ass, and I wanted a happy night.
I don’t consider those nights to be a failure, or even something I regret or regretted. I’m honestly not sure what my intention or my end game is with sobriety…I just know that on March 19th 2025, I decided to stop letting my fucking addiction control me.
My mentality is and always will be my biggest and most important obstacle when it comes to sobriety. And right now, my mentality about alcohol feels good. It feels like I can have a drink if I want one, and not get sucked back in to the addiction. So it feels really safe and stable right now.
Of course, I understand that that could change any day, and then I will have to readjust my actions to match my mentality. But for now, I feel okay having a drink once every few weeks without feeling guilt. And still consider myself to be sober. 3 or 4 drinks in an entire month as opposed to every single night feels like a huge win…even if it isn’t perfection.
But…the depression. That has started kicking my ass. After last week with all the hospitals and trauma, my nervous system is just fried.
I’m tired, I just want to sleep and lay in bed and hide away from the world and…
And just take a break. I wanted a fucking break. I’m at my emotional limit, and I need a break from it all.
I think how I’m feeling is honestly pretty reasonable for the week that we just endured, but that doesn’t mean it’s realistic. I can’t just run away from my life. Or hide in bed and pretend the world isn’t falling apart around me.
The long story short on the medical side of things is that Phoenix likely has IBD, probably ulcerative colitis. Yes, I’m talking about my 6 year old. We’ll find out more at his GI appointment on Wednesday, but for now, that’s high on the list of likely possibilities.
The icing on top of the cake is that while I was in the hospital with Phoenix, my parents got a really nasty respiratory illness. Negative for covid and flu, thankfully, but a gross sounding cold that will absolutely send any of my kids to the hospital if it takes up residence in their chests like it did with my mom.
We’ve all been symptom free so far, and my mom is pretty good about keeping her germs to herself…but it’s a scary thing to think about considering the current fragility of all 3 of my kids right now. Phoenix started having a dry cough this afternoon, which is extremely concerning. But maybe it’ll be fine and they’ll get through it, or escape it completely, with no issues.
It’s just barely past 9:30pm, and I am so exhausted. I know my body needs rest and sleep, and so does my mind. I just wish my days could be a tiny bit less chaotic right now.
I’d really, really appreciate just a tad bit of boring for a while.
