I want to be happy. I have everything I need, most of what I want and many things to look forward to. But I’m worried. Dramatically, painfully, agonizingly worried. And that’s keeping me from feeling happy. Or looking forward to a bright future. Or being grateful.
I’ve been feeling incredibly tense. Restless. I can hear the edge in my voice, pleasantries are near impossible and in fact any conversation on my part is forced. In short, I’m a wreck.
I probably just need to have a kicking, screaming, crying fit. As of yet I haven’t been able to do that. I watched a sappy movie this afternoon hoping it might open the floodgates so I could clear some of this anxiety. I shed a tear. The elephant is still on my chest. I’ll try a hot, quiet bath later. Sometimes I can let loose there.
If nothing else works, later this week I may be able to relax. We should know if my father’s illness is as grave as it seems. Seeing him like this and the not knowing is breaking my spirit. All I can do is worry.
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