Of Sour Notes and Bitter Pills

 *This is reblogged from my other Blog 200 days to Healthy (http://200daystohealthy.blogspot.com/)

Halfway through the week and I have failed to post more than this one blog. It has been an incredibly trying week. From Sunday morning this week has been riddled with stress and disasters. Halfway though, I am licking my wounds and trying to muster the energy to move forward. Once I make it though, I will be stronger for it, won't I?

Saturday was incredibly busy with family and friend obligation dragging us all over the Inland Empire and Los Angeles County. We ended last week on a relatively manic note which was a prelude to what this week had in store.

The week began with a frantic phone call to my mother. It seems my grandmother has been doing very poorly. She is in her mid-late 90s and stubborn as a mule and dealing with depression. She has decided to punish my grandfather, who suffers from Parkinson's, for being lazy by refusing to leave the couch and refusing to eat or drink for a week. All my Sunday plans were dropped in order to deal with this. My husband was a wonderful support in the endeavor. We had to forgo our plans to get outdoors or to work on personal projects. We even forwent on our necessary errands such as grocery shopping and laundry in order to help deal with the crisis. While the crisis has not completely subsided, we were able to get some food into her and schedule a next mini intervention. She is stubborn and refuses to live closer to her children who can offer assistance or even in a retirement environment. She values her autonomy, yet is stubborn enough to basically allow herself to become suicidal in order to punish those around her.

We made it home late enough that there wasn't time or energy to go to the store which has translated into some poor food options for the subsequent days out of convenience. There poor options in turn are wrecking havoc on my system and making it hard to get the rest I so desperately need after the weekend's endeavors. I am utterly disappointed in myself. I feel like I am failing at life today.

Work has been an absolute mess, with one of the "fixes" our new web developers have implemented ended up crashing our database which left me scrambling after hours trying to put our client fires and pin-point exactly what was causing the issue. By the time I head home I am completely defeated, and, of course forced to work extra from home as many of the fires were still kindling. On top of this, there is a teeter tottering with me and our web guys where they are constantly claiming "fixed" only for me to find the issues are still there and requiring me to repeat myself 4 or 5 times before the issues are actually addressed. Its a process I suppose.

Hubby's work has also been giving him the run around and it is rare for him to work an 8 hour day, often clocking 10 hours plus off the clock phone calls, so I can't rely on him to pick up my slack.

My brother is also not doing well depression wise, and this is making me concerned for his well being at the cost of my own. I play the role of the fixer in my family-- the person who is available in a pinch to manage whatever issues may arise. It can be exhausting.

I've come home ravenous and anxious and exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically the last few days. I have not even come close to maintaining my nutrition goals. On top of that, I seem to be getting added stress from friends whose good intentions have a negative impact on my current fragile psychological state. "You know the risk of Downs increases greatly if you get pregnant after 30, so you better not wait too long." *sigh* Innocent statements are weighing me down. There is just too much pressure in my world right now and I am so very tired.

My friend and mentor Saul Landau passed away yesterday. This political giant greatly influenced my life course and a big part of me is heart broken we hadn't gotten an opportunity to reconnect recently. I would never have gone into film or left my position at Cal Poly Pomona if it hadn't been at his urging. He had so much faith in me and was such an inspiration in my life. I miss him immensely. This news is also weighing me down.

The week is only half done, and I need to come up for air soon. I cannot continue to pretend to be swimming along fine. If you keep pretending, how can you tell if you're drowning?

My saving grace is that I have maintained my workout routine consistently in spite of the pressure. It hasn't exactly energized me, but I am happy I am not letting everything slip to the wayside. Got to trudge forward, if I keep kicking and remembering to breath I should make it out of these rough waters, won't I?