Every now and then our lives seem difficult. We tell ourselves that things aren't as bad as they seem because we are still alive, or we tell ourselves life could be worse, we could be dying from some incurable illness. In all honesty we can't live in the past, and we can't question what we are going to do in the future. Of course things could be worse, but maybe right now things are the worst they have been in our lives. Right now might be the worst things have ever been, and maybe on reflection things have been worse that in the past, and they might get worse in the future, but we are living in the now. We reach out, wanting to talk to our friends, but often when that time comes we hesitate, not wanting to burden people with our problems when we know they have problems of their own.
There are very few people I can talk to. It isn't because I don't feel comfortable, it isn't because I don't think they won't listen, it's because I don't like being vulnerable. I hate crying in front of people. I hate having emotions or being emotional, and if you have ever seen it you should feel honored. Right now though, I may be at a breaking point.
I have a lot on my mind. One of those things is my anxiety over talking to my partner about our eighteen year old cat. Our cat, lovingly called Shaggy Maggie, isn't doing so well, and I think it is time for us to let her go. She has gone from nine pounds to less than four, and she looks, and feels, like a skeleton. She has chronic kidney disease, and isn't going to get better. We have given her medicines, and the vet tried extraneous fluids but she was having none of that. So, after continually giving her anti-nausea meds and all the wet food she can eat without puking, I realized tonight that she is still losing weight. I can't, however, have a rational discussion with my partner about it right now because their father is not doing so hot.
Balancing things creates more tension. I am struggling with this decision I have to make, and I am struggling with how and when to talk to my partner about it, and I am trying to balance my upset with and their anxiety over their father.
But right now, I'm tired. I am so tired. I want to be sleeping, but my legs actually hurt. I want to sleep, but my partner sounds like an Harley. I want to sleep, but I am worried about making the best decision for my cat. I want to sleep. I want to stop thinking. I want to stop life for a minute so I can take a breath. I want to take a breath. I want a moment, just one, where I feel mentally and physically okay. Is that too much to ask?
This, the thinking, is one of the reasons an author with insomnia isn't the best combination.