I have packed Elayna's flute, a notebook, and my meds. Those are the most important things. Anything else, I can pick up when I get there, should I have forgotten it.
Elayna has been interrupting me every thirty seconds for, um, two weeks now. I can't read anything. I can't write anything. Even now, when I have a sliver of time when I might be able to write - transcribe the bit about ten-year-old Alanna at the very least, if not flesh it out - I can't. My brain is itchy, my body twitchy; I know that the moment I type the first word, I will hear the child yell "Mommy!"
There is a lack of respect there that needs to be worked on. But my brain is too fried to work on it with her right now.
Not a lack of respect so much as an inability to recognize that conditions in which respect is needed currently exist, I suppose. But again - too fried at this moment to teach her to recognize said conditions.
Not a happy mental state. Can't think straight.
Have not had one single second to myself. For weeks.
Knew that was bad for me. Didn't realize *how* bad.
Love my child. But I cannot live like this.
Soon. *sigh* Soon.