It’s not often that life kicks my ass so hard I can’t make five minutes to at least repost old material with a brand new headline, but it does happen.
In the last few weeks alone, I’ve dealt with a lot. Some big, like being diagnosed with adult ADHD (and suddenly high school makes sense) and some not-so-big but totally drama worthy for an ADHD/OCD woman barely holding on to the keeping it all together. Not that I’m naming names but this woman mayu or may not have three dogs, one husband who just announced he is switching to swing shift right about the time a certain girl child starts kindergarten, effectively erasing all chances to pee in peace for at least three months. She also learned how hard it is to apply red lipstick from an adult-sized tube onto the tiny red lips that would smile big enough on stage for me to see from where I sat. So she asked another mom to do it, which is probably why my child looked like a demure ballerina princess in the enchanted rose garden and not a toddler in a tiara.
Every missed opportunity to save a moment with my words for posterity is still stored in my head. But between the two weeks of digestive hell I’ve been dealing with and today’s craziness, I think it would be extremely responsible of me to be proactive for once in my adult life and sign up for a sponsor and the nearest AA group before getting all I Love You Guys drunk and sloppy.
Buttercup and I left the house at 10 a.m. this morning for the hike across town to see the first of three doctors, all scheduled for the same day because they all happen to be five minutes from each other whereas I live 45 minutes on the other side of the world. My super-powered nurse practitioner figures my fingers look like I ran them over with a lawn mower because I was in desperate need of an ADHD medication change, the ENT guy agrees with my crazy bloodshot eyes being caused by the mesquite currently burning in New Mexico that I should probably not only Stay Indoors At All Times but that if I leave my house it should only be to get the hell away from the Southern border, because of the Being Severely Allergic thing, and my naturopath walked me through my food allergy panel test results (hint: air and water are on the safe list. Except for the air currently filled with the pollen from the burning mesquite carrying over from New Mexico. That air is totally the opposite of being on the safe list. Also? The last time I looked like this, I was sitting in a college dorm room wondering why feet suddenly turned into ice and why she had a towel tucked under the door and that was accidentally way more fun.
I’m exhausted and want a new hobby that doesn’t involve insurance co-pays and waiting rooms. And a pony. I’d totally love one of those. But I’d settle for trashy daytime TV and time to pretend I’m a famous blogger. My head is spinning with thoughts like what I’m wearing to my cousin’s wedding in a few weeks, dealing with a cross-country flight and family members and Routines that Are Not My Own. I’m crazy with worry over finding the perfect shoes for BFF Heather’s wedding next March, how the hell I’m going to get any work done with The Husband home all morning and Buttercup all afternoon, and how behind I’ll be tomorrow with my to-do list if I don’t have time to finish it all tonight.
And that’s when I remind myself that blogging is on my list of things to do because it matters and keeps me sane(ish) and sane(ish) is a good place to be. So I force myself to sit back down, turn the Mac back on, and log back in.