In which your intrepid heroine screws up. Repeatedly.

We will take it as a given that I am by nature somewhat tightly wound. Not as tightly wound as SemperFi, nor the brother at church I nicknamed Brother TightlyWound almost twenty years ago. I think I was a happy little chatterbox as a child, but that was way more than twenty years ago. My parents would be the best judges; however, they are inconveniently on the other side of the veil and unavailable for comment.

I learned the fine art of keeping it together while married to the children's father. I was certainly the glue that kept his world together, even when I was falling apart inside. It has been a long slow struggle to recognize and own my feelings instead of stuffing them. The good feelings are fun to share. The painful or ugly ones get told, "I'll deal with you later," so they find a quiet corner of my body and burrow in until I can no longer ignore them.

I've had this knot in my back for maybe a month and a half. It showed up around my birthday, just to the right of my spine and about kidney level, but it's not a UTI. I knew that it was at least partially psychogenic, but I didn't know what incident(s?) had prompted it. I had a flash of what I hope is insight last night and am going to chew on it awhile to see if it makes sense. I may or may not choose to share.

I have been feeling a quiet but growing panic about money the past two weeks. Every time I turn around, I am buying more food, or more medicine, and the kids are emphatically not being piggy. The $50 a whack for PT has been the straw chafing this camel's back. There is simply not an extra $200 per paycheck, and I've been robbing Peter to pay Paul, which is how I found myself last night over-limit on my credit card with barely enough in savings to knock that down somewhat, leaving me at the pharmacy for Middlest's Ritalin this morning with $10 to spare.

The PT is strengthening my body, and I am thankful. But it cuts into the peace of my early morning hours. My scripture study has fallen apart. My study for Sunday's lessons has fallen apart. I don't have time to manage my finances properly. I don't have time to read, or putter. Monday night I wanted nothing more than to come home, eat dinner with the kids, and spend the evening quilting. Instead, I spent three hours on autopilot, hangry after the first two, and just wanting to get everything done so I could collapse in bed.

Yesterday was worse. The office manager called me in for a kind but serious discussion. Since the first of the year, there have been four instances where I dropped the ball. Individually, each would not have been significant. Taken together, they are troubling, both for her and for me.

I wish I could wave a magic wand and heal Middlest and Fourthborn of their physical and mental challenges. Middlest is a considerate housemate. Fourthborn has been a quiet and considerate guest while we are sorting out her paperwork. I wonder how they will survive when I am called Home. I don't need the other kids to bail me out financially. I just need more energy and more wisdom and an extra half-dozen hours in the day to get everything done.

I am feeling a little like I did when my marriage was falling apart: diffuse anger, inertia, frustration. Complicated by forgetfulness, lack of focus, exhaustion like I experienced when Beloved died. It is safe to say that I am going through a soul-stretching period, and at some future time I will be able to look back and be grateful for what I learned. But at the moment it doesn't feel as if I am learning anything. And it's pretty safe to say that the promotion I was hoping for next year will be deferred another year unless Heaven sends me some workplace manna and quail.

I accidentally ran a red light on the way home from the pharmacy this morning. And I found out yesterday that my best friend has cancer. It helped to go to Knit Night last night. It helped tonight to go visit my friend L in the hospital. I am going to a funeral tomorrow afternoon for the mother of a coworker. Each of those things pulls me out of my mental hamster cage and into a brighter part of the world.

I want my mom. I want my husband. I want the Savior to come and heal all the people I love. I want to see (or at least feel) the angels that are standing between me and the abyss. Side note: when I was visiting L, she remarked that there were presences over by where I was sitting, and another over by the door. I couldn't see them (nor could she), and I couldn't feel them. I'm pretty sure that mine are working overtime.

I've taken my meds. I'm going to bed. Knit only minimally happened today, quilting not at all. But I made and ate spaghetti with my kids, and I spent time with a friend, and I sent up a lot of random prayers throughout the day. Today was better than yesterday, red light notwithstanding, and tomorrow will be better than today.