I may finally be succumbing to nervous exhaustion. I haven't slept well in over two weeks. Horrors. When I think of what people around the world -- in Darfur, in Iraq, in Israel and Palestine, in Sudan and in Tibet have to put up with, I think I'm a pretty sorry excuse for evolvement. Nevertheless, I can't seem to sleep more than a few hours. My head hurts a lot of the time, and I'm finding it hard to be with people.
I know intellectually it seems like a good time to go to a Doctor, but I'm uninsured and have just spent all of my extra money proving to my kids that they're loved and that they will have nice things on their birthdays and that life is not all so bad. Har. A few points here are a stretch for me right now. I feel dishonest about the stuff, the experience of their birthday celebrations. They looked pretty pumped up but I couldn't have done it without the help of my lover.
Why can't I be small? Why can't I be a streamers and balloons taped to the wall kind of mother? I simply cannot make do with less and thus am driven to work three jobs to pay for things like birthdays they'll remember. I asked my son if he'd remember this birthday, his seventh, and he actually laughed, and said, "Yeah, right mom. I'll be like 100 years old and think, 'I remember that sleepover I had at my Dad's with Ariel, (his friend) and who were those other people, I wonder.'" God he's brilliant. I could have cried. I just about killed myself, my lover, and 12 little kids to make this birthday a bash for him, and he's so brilliant, already. Can I please remember this next year? Please, please, please...
The problem is that I remember my 7th birthday, my 6th, my 5th, etc. I have this memory that won't let go of anything. I'm like a safety deposit box. Put in memory, and it stays forever. I have to REMEMBER that not everyone, not most people, remember things like I do.
This is one thing that saved me during my marriage, however, because my ex-husband is such a revisionist. He simply doesn't remember hurting me that badly, and paints a convincing picture that my perception was wrong. Though because I remember everything with such detail, it never sent me into complete oblivion.
He got this talent from his mother who doesn't remember, now, for instance, that she was so frightened by her son's anger she was prepared to call the police if he ever came over to her house again. She was able to completely revise that memory so that it never happened and she now believes he is an angel. This would make someone with an average memory feel loony, but for me it just illustrated what a bunch of liars was his family.
Now, to write this in such a public forum actually makes me feel guilty and panicked about being discovered, but that's another blog for another night.
Well, I'm sleepy. Let's see if I can make it through 6 hours tonight....