So the saying goes, "Treat each day as if it were a gift", or something along those lines. Whoever spoke that did not have the package that I had the displeasure of unwrapping today.
I'm mentally exhausted from my job. It's not a career - it's a job; something I have to do to bring home the bacon and keep our heads above water. I answer the calls of patients that need/ want every kind of narcotic and medication known to man. I am so drained I cannot even muster a decent blog. Just a rant. That's all this is. Nothing more.
It's like every low emotion swirling in my head: anger, apathy, distaste, sadness, and a slow depression creeping back into the into the corner of my mind, like a fog hovering thick and low, whiting out the sun's rays. Okay, well maybe that was a little too deep, but you've had those days when you just want to hit the reset button - or eject the disc and start a new game altogether because you can't get past that one pesky Level.
It's not entirely my job... that is only half the battle Monday through Friday. It's coming home. I love my family. That I know more than anything. It's the demands put on me as a wife and mother. It's the constant worry that Kurt is in a bad mood because of his constant pain. It's the worry that I will have to pick up the emotional pieces that are left of my 14 year old daughter because, well...let's face it - she's 14. It's worry that my 13 year old son did well in school today and completed his homework. It's worry that my 6 year old has expanded his vocabulary with yet another colorful expression picked up by his older brother. It's the worry of being on guard and ready to Ref another argument between the 14 and 13 year old.
This is my life between 6:00am and 10:00pm - each day - everyday.
I know what my gift is every day before opening it. It's like getting socks for Christmas - and not the cute, fuzzy soft ones - the socks in the value pack from Wal-Mart, with the cheap price tag displayed boldly in the upper right corner. You take it politely and say "Thank you", because after all, it is a gift, and it's the thought that counts, but in your mind you're thinking, "This is what I get? After all I have done - this all you could come up with?"
Of course this is no body's fault - it never will be. This is just where I am for right now.
I love my children. I love their laughter and squeals filling the home - even if it is followed by a 'CRASH' and a "OooooOoooOooOo you're gonna be in big trouble when Mom sees what you did!" I love that Kurt is getting better each day - even the bad days, and can be home with the kids after school and be a bigger part of their lives.
It's just moments like this where I sit quietly as I soak in the chaos swirling around me. The moments when you have the same song stuck in your head and can't get rid of it. The moment when you open that gift, hoping it is something exciting and new, but instead only a package of generic white socks. You smile- a weak, empty smile and say 'Thank you' then pray the store allows returns.
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