Sunday, June 10, 2007

Buried up to the lips

Yeah, things aren't going that well. Not too bad, but not too well. To quote a really bad joke about the sinners trapped in a mud pit in Hell, all I can say is, "Don't make waves!"

Life is an endless round of frenetic activities, all of which leave me emotionally exhausted but physically restless. My feet hurt, but my leg muscles feel as if I've never used them at all. My hands are cramped, but my shoulders are tensed and my forehead tight.

The last time I lost weight, I had an exercise program in place. My free time was devoted to exercising, which led to Tae Kwon Do, which led to that gloriously limp and light feeling that follows a full-tilt sparring class.

Now I've got household chores, and food to make, and family members to appease, which means that on the weekends my feet are nailed to the floor, just as during the week my butt is nailed to a chair.

Well, now that I'm whining, I might as well go for it: I need time to myself. I want my days to be full of gardening, and power walks, and yoga, and pets, and writing, and picking up my son in the mid-afternoon to go to a music class or afterschool sport.

I want to feel that freedom, I want my days to be orderly and purposeful; I don't want to be forced to race panic-stricken through the hours without ever getting the chance to notice the weather.

I'd quit my job in a heartbeat, but I'm afraid it would be terrible for my family. We still haven't been able to dig out from under the last mountain of debts that accumulated after my previous period of unemployment, and I feel responsible for that. It's choking me.

So to release the stranglehold of debt, I'm stuck in this punishing grind, short on sleep, cramped and cranky, trying to hang onto some tiny corner of what I really care about and forfeiting most of it.

And is the debt situation easing up? Nope. Not a bit. It's enough to make a person cry.