Guess I'd better talk.

I resolved when I broke up with Jared that I would stop hiding how I felt so much, stop pretending things were okay when they weren’t. So I’m going to subject you to the dumb bullshit about how I’m feeling. Feel free to skip if you don’t want to hear. I wouldn't blame you; I'm sick of it myself.

At a very low ebb. Feel so off these, even when I’m mostly doing normal. Seeing how badly Mom is doing just makes me ache. How weak she is, how much help she needs, how much pain she’s in, how she’s sometimes muddled and off both from the painkillers and from the tumors pressing on her brain. It makes me so sad that all the other rough things in my life right now seem beyond my ability to handle.

I’ve come to dislike the term self-care. I know what it’s supposed to mean— making yourself and your wellbeing a priority —but I’ve come to associate it so strongly with people blowing off responsibilities that it raises my hackles a little every time I see it. I would rather feel a little worse than be the kind of person who doesn’t fulfill the commitments that they make to other people. Than for people to feel like they can’t count on me.

But I am overwhelmed. And I don’t know how to ease it. It’s mostly my own fault; in order to feel relevant and like I’m doing something worthwhile with my time when I’m low, I always load myself up with projects. It makes me feel like I’m actually doing something toward making the career I really want. That, and I am so prone to laying down and sinking into nothingness that I need occupations to stave it off. But I have so much difficulty concentrating under this stress that I struggle to get anything done. And so much is due, so much is expected that I’ve committed. And I know I would feel even worse about myself if I didn’t deliver.

How, then, can I take care of myself?

I want to hide, to seek refuge in quiet and solitude, but I can’t. My job, tutoring students in paper writing at Bunker Hill Community College, requires I see and talk with lots of new people every day. While I do fairly good work at it, I find that much human interaction to be extremely exhausting. It’s a good job, though I don’t get many hours, but that part of it stresses me out extremely. It seems like it’s been more so lately. Probably just because I’m so stressed by my mother’s situation, but I’m starting to worry that the wear is cumulative. Which means it would only get worse. But I have to do something, and I’m terrible at finding new jobs when I need them. I guess I have to hope this is only temporary.

I feel like I’m been slow and forgetful lately. Responding to things, remembering the things I have to make sure I get done. And every time a new responsibility hits me, I wonder if it’s going to be what topples me. When one of my roommates told me she’s leaving in a month, the thought of having to find somebody to replace her made me dizzy.

I worry about money. It’s gauche to talk about it, but it’s on the list. Now that the winter finally seems to be breaking it might not be an issue anymore, but the heating bills were absolutely killing me. I’ve been a touch behind for months, even with my careful budgeting. It’s so tiresome to expend so much effort being careful and still not being able to make things stretch. I guess I have one real monetary indulgence—I spend a probably ridiculous amount for my budget on my various workouts. I take two ballet classes a week, plus I attend two group circuit workouts with a trainer at a little gym in Waltham. It adds up pretty fast. But I get so much out of it. I love learning to dance, my body has never looked or felt better, and I think it does so much for my health. If I feel stressed and worn out now, I can only imagine what condition I’d be in without it. If I could just make myself do it myself—practice ballet myself for an hour and a half, go through the circuit routine on my own at the gym —I’d save a ton. But I have a hell of a time making myself do it when I don’t have an appointment with somebody to put me through the paces. I feel like the money’s worth it to me, but I suppose it’s stupid for me to complain about things being tight when I’m making a choice that makes it so.

I suppose I should be grateful. I remember when I was dealing with this sort of thing with the black cloud of Jared hanging over my life. Nothing sucked the hope or energy out of me like he did. Thank God that weight has been lifted; I don’t feel like I’m a breath away from sinking all the time. But I could use a victory. Something nice to happen to me. A success of some kind, a step forward. I know that won’t make up for what’s happening to my mother. But it might help me not to break down and lose hope.