It’s been hanging around a few weeks lately which is why, a few days ago, I wrote the post Anxiety: The Flamingo Does Not Define Me. I’ve been trying to climb out of a rut that has seen me stuck for three weeks or so. I have to be honest, because that’s who I am and what I do. I consider myself a self care idiot. I should know better by now. I should know how to look after my physical needs and the needs of my ever spinning mind. I really should but I’m feeling the pinch of being overwhelmed lately and it has swallowed up any opportunity I’ve had to care for myself. Overhelmed with balancing working from home and being the Momma Bear I want to be, but feeling as though I’m failing in the process because I want to hide in the kitchen. Overwhelmed with my relationships with friends, family and Papa Bear. Even overwhelmed with how the furniture is positioned and how Un-Marie Kondo’d the house is.
I haven’t been a very good blogger lately for a number of reasons which I suppose I can, hopefully, be forgiven for. Firstly at 33 weeks pregnant… or is it 34? I’ve lost count!.. I’m exhausted and am finding it very difficult to stay up past 10pm most nights. Hell, 10pm! I’m doing quite well there. Secondly, I’m tired of complaining, so I imagine you’re tired of listening to me complain. Considering all I could think to write about was once again my hatred of pregnancy, I’ve refrained from writing a blog post until now. Thirdly, I was on doctors orders to relax more and give the blog a back seat, so blogging once a week has pretty much been my limit. I had intended on taking a break from writing completely this week and leave you all wondering where I was until B sent me an email that triggered a ton of emotions.