Something is happening to me, and I only know two things about it.
1. I have no idea what it is that is happening
2. I don't like it.
What are the symptoms, you ask? Here are a few.
It's time to brush Hallie's teeth in the morning. I don't brush them. I start to think about cavities, and the look on the dental hygenist's face when she discovers the cavities. Whose fault are those? Mine. Fail.
Devin comes home from work. I haven't done the dishes again. Fail.
I have people come over. I haven't swept the floor, picked up the toys, or done anything really to make it look nice. Fail.
The scary part? I don't really care. Me! The person who still has nightmares about forgetting to to homework! Failing is one of the biggest fears of my life... Sometimes I can bring myself to care again, when I think about how cavities hurt and it's not fair to Hallie if I make her go through that because I am lazy. So we go brush. And sometimes I can bring myself to care when I remind myself of how much Devin does for me every day, and I get up and go do the dishes. But even then, not always.
So what am I doing instead? Sometimes I find myself laying on the couch or my bed, staring out the window. How much time has gone by? Sometimes I find myself reading books. For hours, and hours, and hours. (This is an old, and familiar escape habit of mine.) Sometimes I don't even really know what I did to fill up all the hours of a day.
So, now, if you're following the same train of though that I always do, you're thinking I'm depressed. And maybe that's what this is about. Yet, at this point I always tell myself to stop being so dramatic. I guess I am in no position to diagnose, but I still find humor in things, I still like talking to the people I love. I don't spend all day sleeping - especially compared to how much I did in high school.
Then I wonder if it's just normal to have an off day like this every now and then. Maybe I had them before, and I just didn't notice as much because I had more going on. I mean, I did just move across the country, away from all the places and people that I know and love. I did just have a baby, so maybe it's a little postpartum depression that will eventually go away? The thing with these theories though, is that I just moved to Nebraska. Devin and I go to Winter Quarters every other week. Certainly with the worn stone markers there stand as evidences against those theories. For those women walked across the country. They had babies on the trail, and I'm really thinking to blame my new whatever-this-is on my trivial non-problems?
Maybe I should go to some sort of therapy. Maybe blogging is my therapy. Maybe I should have my Aunt Phyllis look this over and see what she thinks. What do you think? Am I losing it?