I woke up yesterday wracked with anxiety. Didn't want to leave the house, the bed, even. Nap at 1:30.
Anxiety. Sadness. Medicated.
The night before, Friday night, I bit C's head off right before bed, over nothing.
We talked earlier that evening, about what we might do. What options we would consider. Worries. Hopes.
Today, every action was fraught with anxiety. Buying a plane ticket to see my family. Walking the dog. Changing the channel.
The frustration, anxiety, withdrawal -- it was there all week. Sadness. Anger. I've been making C crazy with my vitriol, aimed at anything and everything. Including him.
Teaching was actually the only thing that went okay this week, I mean, the only thing I felt good about. But not for long. I don't feel like I'm really present or giving them what they need. Falling down on the job, is one way to put it, I guess.
A common theme in most aspects of my life these days, it seems.
Maybe I'm just too messed up to do this. To parent.
Moody. Emotional. Chronically depressed. Chronically clinically depressed. Needy. Irresponsible. Short-tempered.
Too sensitive. Too immature to do it for the long haul. What would I do to children? (Wouldn't it be awesome if a potential birth mother or social worker were to find this?)