4. A Big Ball of Scared

Hi. Me again. The middle of the night June 1. I am now nearly 41 ½, so I thought I would check in on my progress as a woman in mid-life trying to change and improve and grow. Spoiler alert: not good. Honestly, at this moment, I feel worse than I did at the beginning of the year. Physically, I am still a mess. My eyes are still effed up from an allergen my doctors still can’t properly identify; I have weak knees and plantar fasciitis in both my feet now; and I am tired of eating things like cauliflower and kale when I really want to chow down on a Jersey Mike’s sub but I can’t because I’ve had to cut back on wine, potatoes, pasta, pizza, and bread per the doctor’s orders. I’ve lost five pounds so far, but I don’t feel any better about myself. And, emotionally, I am a wreck. I am a big ball of scared. All the time. I still can’t sleep through the night. I was up at 1 a.m. every night this week and up again at 5 a.m. for good every morning and not on purpose but if I don’t get up and distract myself I think thoughts that I just don’t want to be laying in bed thinking. I am up tonight due to storms but I can’t go back to sleep tonight because I am a big ball of scared. There are nine days left of the school year for my kids, which means there are nine days left in which I kiss them on their foreheads and send them on their way, then close the door behind them and start to pray, and continue praying throughout the day for their safe return home. Because, you know, school shootings and all. Except it’s not just schools where people bring guns and ruin lives. It’s everywhere. At the movie theatres. The mall. The grocery store. Our places of worship and work. I am a big ball of scared tonight with a lump in my throat and a knot in my stomach because a few hours ago a nutcase killed a dozen people where he worked in Virginia Beach. Virginia Beach. An hour away from where we live, not multiple states away like Florida or Nevada or California. Virginia Beach. An hour away from here. A place we love to visit often throughout the year. We were there just two weeks ago. And, yes, guns are the weapons of choice here in America, but there are deranged people everywhere who are also using knives and bombs and vehicles all over the world to wreak havoc on other people’s lives. Like everyone else, I am not sure how we got here as a country. I am not sure what is going on. I can’t fathom why people choose to do this. And what we have to do to make it stop. But I want it to stop. I need it to stop. Because I am tired of existing as this big ball of scared all the time. I’m tired of worrying. I’m tired of crying. I’m just tired.