You would think I would be better about asking for help given how much help we needed last year. I would think I would be better about it too.
I'm learning that I'm not.
I was talking to my neighbor, and she told me that I always acted like I had everything together, handled. I don't. I'm always about three seconds from my breaking point and wondering what the best route to Intermountain (the psych hospital) is. I say that only half in jest... and maybe less.
I keep wondering where exactly my breaking point is. At what point is THIS the thing that will send me over the edge. But then I remember that no one said I had to do any of this alone.
Community. That word has come to define the last 15 months. Whether it's an online community who rallies behind me every time I get one more piece of bad news or my Stroller Strides community, members whom I have never met offering to bring us dinner, it's community. We build them for protection, so that in these moments (and hopefully, in those really HIGH moments too) we can band together and survive.
It doesn't mean I'm any better though at telling my communities that I am desperate. I am desperate. I am in survival mode, hoping that I can just get through this next task with myself held together. I think often of moments of peace where I can think, process. I need a place to process everything that has happened this last year+. I'm hoping that the skies will clear soon to give me that space.
In the meantime, I need help.
** And as a follow-up, Dan's surgery went well, and he is home recovering. The doctor called today for us to schedule Kellen's surgery (which will be exactly the same), but I am going to wait until things ease up so I can be there fully for Kellen. There is no hurry; it just needs to get done.