I had my first panic attack in weeks this morning.
Too much in my head.
Too much going on.
Too much to be expected of this
broken fabulous woman.
Hitting the cow, job uncertainty and moving to a new area out of the blue (it is everyone, not just me), starting to sort my PTSDedness out, motherfucking school shit x2 and then…
*sigh* …shit I can’t talk about.
It’s just Too much.
Extras piling on the already stressful shit and I am a motherfucking mess.
Thankfully the weather is nice and cool meaning I feel physically better, so I am scrubbing the metaphorical shit out of the was once grey grout between the four hundred billion WHITE floor tiles in this four bedroom house.
Cause that is what I do.
The clean washing is piling up on the spare bed (at least it is clean…I concede that) and the bath needs cleaning but of course I do something that is completely irrational and not really required but it is the only thing that is stopping that feeling of dread.
That pulling feeling in my chest.
That squashing of my brain and the glazing of my eyes.
The muffled whispers in my head that convince me that everything ever is my responsibility.
And my fault.
Today it has all come to a head and I just can’t deal.
So I get down on my hands and knees and scrub.
And hope this passes before I run out of tiles.
PS: Anyone know how to stop the grout getting so grotty? I mop regularly and do this deep scrub at least once a year and it feels like it gets dirty as soon as I turn my back.