Not much to say, lots to do, and I really really do not want to do it. I want to crawl back in bed every morning and sleep all day. Time to get my meds adjusted. I love the changes of the season, but my internal clock does not. It has been this way since I had my TBI. Almost ten years ago. I can not believe it has been that long. Long enough that most of my friends don't remember me from before. And yet short enough that I am still trying to wrap whats left of my brain around this whole "NEW ME". I am in a bad mood today. But this is an honest blog and that is how I am feeling. The whole fam-damily feels like they are having to walk on egg shells around me and yet I feel fine. SO something is not right. I want to get into the car and drive away, to no where in particular but not come back.
My sister and I had a yard sale this weekend. It was good to purge so much stuff from the house and storage. Afterward I just said take it all and donate it. I don't want it back in the house. I am trying to do that with my art studio. So much STUFF. Do I really need that tiny tiny sock, no more than an inch big from when #11 was born? Or the ticket stubs from the gondola ride in Canada? I have anxiety over this stuff, I feel like I have to keep it but just do not want it. And then the guilt sets in. What if I need it, or my kids want it. This is an internal argument every time I have to clean stuff out. I know it comes from my Dad. I dread the day we have to clean out his "stuff".
And tha is all I have to say for today.
My sister and I had a yard sale this weekend. It was good to purge so much stuff from the house and storage. Afterward I just said take it all and donate it. I don't want it back in the house. I am trying to do that with my art studio. So much STUFF. Do I really need that tiny tiny sock, no more than an inch big from when #11 was born? Or the ticket stubs from the gondola ride in Canada? I have anxiety over this stuff, I feel like I have to keep it but just do not want it. And then the guilt sets in. What if I need it, or my kids want it. This is an internal argument every time I have to clean stuff out. I know it comes from my Dad. I dread the day we have to clean out his "stuff".
And tha is all I have to say for today.
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