Froggy-ness
I sometimes worry about the amount of energy Sir has to spend on me. Â Last night I had a panic attack… at 10 at night, when we were all trying to sleep.
It’s probably because my asthma was terrible all day and I was pumped full of steroids and I had a lot of work to do today and… perfect storm for not sleeping.
But really… he took me from bed and took me downstairs and pulled the futon onto the floor and laid us both on it and then he just did deep pressure on my body for literally two hours until I could almost, mostly sleep… then woke up again in another hour when I was back wide awake and did it again… and we went like that all night and today… Â I’m manic from lack of sleep, and he’s just tired.
And I think… why? Â Why would he burden himself with someone like me?
I don’t feel particularly bad about it emotionally right now, just intellectually curious.  But that’s probably because I’m too manic to actually feel my emotions.  I feel like my brain is kind of like a water skater bug and just skittering over the surface of everything  so fast nothing can touch it.  But I imagine that if I had feelings right now, it would make sense to feel like I’m a burden to Sir…
And… really… it’s been one of those weeks when we are all struggling so much and Sir literally has his hands full (one of us in each hand the other night) trying to keep us all minimally functioning. Â And tonight… I… realized… how bad things have been. Â There are dishes all over the house (a large number of them mine…) my medication bottles are scattered across all three levels of the house because I haven’t refilled my daily dosing boxes, so I have to keep being sent after my pill bottles to make sure I still get my meds… Â There is an empty Amazon box at the top of the stairs, and two empty grocery bags at the foot of the stairs…
Sir is currently doing the pressure thing for sub brother who still has another week to go…
And my brain is water bugging all over the place so much that Sir had to go into single syllable directions earlier because I couldn’t track past that, and couldn’t manage my own autonomy… I got home, with a bag of Chipotle to eat, pulled into the garage, opened the car door, put one foot out and then literally sat there until Sir came downstairs and told me to put my other foot out of the car… then had to simplify it to “foot” then touch the foot he wanted me to move so I could pay attention.
Then he had to tell me to close the car door.
Then he had to tell me to walk.
And this is why the house is a fucking shithole right now…
And I can’t even write a decent blog…
I don’t… even know…
A friend just posted something on Facebook that reminded me of Buddha lessons and… I got in a discussion with my former teacher… and… it’s very… apropos.
I should probably try to go to bed, because, neither of the boys is going to be very functional tomorrow if things keep going this way. Â Although sub brother has good drugs so, he has a better chance of getting through this and actually sleeping than I did… Â But… just in case… I should probably sleep so we actually have dishes to eat off of tomorrow, and nobody dies tripping over Amazon boxes on the stairs.
Sigh…
 Me and Sir…  Poor Sir…
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