Compartmentalization has never been my strongest suit. I’m okay in the short term; I can generally push aside specific worries and anxieties in order to, say, make sure my kid gets fed and bathed, or go to work, but inevitably the cracks start to show and everything starts to, just, kind of crumble.
The crumbling has started. Or, who am I kidding, “started.” I’m neck deep in rubble.
I don’t mean to concern people; I am admittedly a highly-anxious person, and even I can recognize that nothing in my life is so dire as to be unresolvable, not by a long shot. And I have a good support network, so, really, I know – in the Logic Center of my brain – I’ll be okay.
But my Lizard Brain is flipping out.
And because the primary source of all this anxiety is related to my wife’s job, and because it’s a lovely bundle of moving pieces and complications, I can’t even properly discuss it here, so the only thing I can do is wait, and focus on the things in my life I have real control over. Which, honestly, sometimes doesn’t feel like much, but.
It’s getting the dishes done – or at least the plates and bowls, the pans can wait. It’s folding the laundry, even if it takes three days to get through it. It’s feeding the cat. It’s cooking dinner and putting together a healthy meal plan. It’s carving out time to play a game of Scrabble with my family. It’s reading Bruce Coville books to my son. It’s working on my art (and being a liar, because I totally started two new digital art projects after I “swore” I was returning to traditional media). It’s making therapy appointments. It’s getting to work on time. It’s sending my wife job listings. It’s playing Wordle at 5 am. It’s sitting down with a glass of wine and watching Taskmaster. It’s reaching out to my support network for commiseration and concrete assistance. It’s waiting. It’s remembering to breathe.
I hope you all are remembering to breathe. I hope you all have something hopeful on the horizon.
I’ll be alright, eventually. And you will too. Cheers.