I haven’t written anything in months. In June, at the tender age of 42, I was the proud recipient of stress-related shingles. This should have clued me in to the fact that I was under too much stress. But I kept on going at work, full time while trying to manage my own disabilities and the disabilities of my son.
And how has that worked out? Not so great. My son had a recent bought of insomnia that I feared might lead us to the hospital. He finally slept, and has been sleeping all day. We have been trying to keep up with online school during this pandemic. We really have. I toyed with the idea of getting him medically excused from high school for a while, but those trying to help us say he needs to stay in so they can complete an IEP evaluation.
I’m having to drop to part time at work and examine other, at-home job opportunities. I know I am hard-working. Maybe too hard-working. I need to find something that strikes a balance between financial and emotional needs. But I am tired. I am tired of hiding my disabilities. They are mostly well-managed, and I just deal. Perhaps it is the added stress that the pandemic has put everyone under. But no one I know is coping as well as they used to.
I have never been this tired. I love the company I temp for dearly. But I think it’s time to find something that makes better use of my communication skills. Something where I can stay close to this kid, preferably. I will do anything it takes to support him and the rest of this little family. Because that’s what good moms/girlfriends do.
We will figure this out.