It’s being sick, it makes me miserable.
I think it makes everyone miserable, right?
But worse still with two small children to take care of, all alone.
I think I have the flu. My body aches, my head is heavy and shivery electric shocks run through me with every step I take.
And I slide.
I cry, and sob. I feel the loneliness, the pressure of it, tears burning the back of my eyes as I try not to let them fall in front of my little ones.
I am angry, so angry. And so jealous I could spit words at people. Because anything, even being sick like this, would have been OK, with my husband to take care of me, the four wrapped and toasty in our Purple House.
I am so sick of being strong, of keeping it all together. I want someone to wrap me up, and wipe away the tears. Treat my fever with a cool washcloth until it breaks. I want someone to laugh gently at me being overdramatic, to kiss me until it feels OK again.
I want someone to take care of me. I take care of my little ones, all alone… I need someone to take care of me.
A few jellybeans have quietly pointed out- especially after the glaringly obvious typo in the heading of my last post- that I consistently spell both ‘lieing’ and ‘dieing’ incorrectly.
I know, it’s OK. My spellcheck is working, I’ve just taken to ignoring the squiggly red lines under those too.
Why? Not entirely sure. I just know it looks better, to me, that way. Maybe becuase you don’t spell it ‘ly’ or ‘dy’, so ‘lying’ and ‘dying’ look wrong.
Whatever. I can only imagine it must be irritating. Not fussed. Strange things, they happen on this blog all the time.
The universe is fucking with me.
I can feel it.