I have to say, I have cruised into these last few weeks of school an absolutely bedraggled, exhausted mess.
Back in September, I posted a cute picture to Instagram of Olive’s little stainless steel lunchbox, tidily packed with mini croissant sandwiches and neatly cut fruit and veggies. My ex-brother-in-law, Chuck, father of four, commented wryly, “Remember this post and show us a picture of the lunch you pack on the Friday before the end of school”.
Well, Chuck, I would like to tell you that here we are, the last Friday before the end of school and oh my god I would never share the lunches I’ve been packing lately. NEVER.
This, right here, is what happens when love for your daughter overwhelms your common sense.
Ten days ago, I had botox injected into 31 spots in my temples, scalp, neck, and shoulders in the hopes that it would do something to help the chronic migraines I’ve been getting for the past few years. It’s kind of terrifying to be at the point where I’m voluntarily paralyzing some of my neck and shoulder muscles just to be able to live my life, but at this point I’m desperate. I’ve tried yoga and meditation and medication and massage and vitamins and basically everything else, and here we are.
Do you ever have those moments where you know you’re acting completely irrationally but you’re so deeply invested in what’s happening and you have so many feelings about it that you have no other option but to just follow your shitty behaviour through to its unpleasant conclusion?
I ask becauser currently, I find myself sitting in my bedroom – my adult woman bedroom – sulking, because I hate my Christmas tree.