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Survival Of The Fittest

For the first time in my life, I am afraid for my country, afraid for my children. For the first time in my life, I am sure that hell is not all that far away. For the first time in my life, I am praying that I will be proven wrong.

In light of all that is happening in my corner of the world and all that I have currently on my plate, I am pushing myself beyond the limits of comprehension and while I enjoy/thrive better under pressure, this is not so much fun and I am not enjoying the trip.

We are moving…to a lovely home on the “other side of the tracks,” to a neighborhood that I believe will benefit my budding young ladies, and impact US in some pretty major ways. However, moving is a feat of astronomical proportions amid 16-hour work days, a pending second surgery for Julie, my own gimpy shoulder, and an upper respiratory infection that is currently kicking my butt. I am clinically depressed and rigidly determined. If only there were 36 hours in a day instead of just 24. The holidays are around the corner. There are just not enough hours in the day. Not usually one to wish my life away, I am, however, looking forward to the end of this year in ways that defy description or comprehension.

I took on a new opportunity/responsibility. Everything in my professional life is based on deadlines and aside from the work-imposed deadlines, I have my own self-imposed deadlines to deal with, but after several days of fevers and chills, several sleepless nights spent coughing up “lung cookies,” and several tons of stuff to be gone through, discarded and/or given away, I am close to implosion.

I haven’t had any “me time” in months and don’t expect to have any “me time” for many more months to come. I wonder if I am up to the challenges. On a day when I have awakened after 5 solid hours of sleep, the answer would be a resounding, “Yes!” On this particular Monday when I am spent, sick and miserable, I can barely utter an, “I’m not so sure.”

My eye is on the prize, but my vision lacking in acuity…

WW