High Anxiety Saturday – Day 3

I had a world of trouble getting to sleep last night. Eventually I broke down and took a vicodin. My headache was pretty minor in comparison to what it usually is, but vicodin is all I have right now. I would have much preferred to take something more appropriate for anxiety, but c’est la vie. Finally, I fell asleep at around 4am, only to be woken up by my fiance doing several hundred times. If you ask me, he was being all passive aggressive and needy, but realistically he was probably just having trouble sleeping too. Still, my patience for him is dwindling. You don’t get to make me cry one minute and expect me to be loving and turned on the next. It just doesn’t work that way. And sadly, that seems to sum up majority of our time together.

He was nice enough to let me sleep in today, though. We trade off waking up with X on the weekends, but Saturday morning is usually my turn. So that was nice of him. I actually slept until noon, which I know I’ve done before but it seems like lifetimes ago. I felt pretty good waking up. Even though I woke up an ungodly number of times, I still managed to be in bed for a full eight hours. I felt pretty refreshed. After making the bed, weighing, getting dressed, and all that fun stuff, I went out to greet my family as well as the day. My heart stopped when I saw the state of the house outside my bedroom door. Our son was nowhere in sight, but it looked like he had exploded. There were toys and paper and trash strewn about. Food everywhere. A few overturned toy baskets. Puzzles with pieces everywhere. Crumbs everywhere. What the hell had happened?

My fiance was sitting on the sofa, picking at his feet as usual, and watching TV. I asked him where X was, and he told me that he’d put himself to sleep. I asked him if a natural disaster had hit our home, and he dumbly said “Why? What’s wrong with it?”. I suppose nothing is wrong with it if you don’t mind wondering what your carpet looks like.

The dishwasher always has dirty dishes in it, unless it’s running. It’s a thing of mine. We’ve lived together for an extremely long time, so he knows this. Why were there dishes piled up to the ceiling (not to mention, where did they all come from?! i’d run the dishwasher last night!) on the counter that’s RIGHT ON TOP of the dishwasher? How much more effort does it take to open the door, and put the cup a foot lower than it would be on the counter?

So I picked up the house. He decided he could pause his TV show to help out a bit, which was nice of him. Maybe he really didn’t see how horrible it looked, though I have trouble buying that. My son woke up sometime while I was cleaning. He decided a fun game to play would be to follow me around and pull out everything I put away. After asking three times for my fiance to change a diaper, I quit picking up, and got X diapered and dressed. Why he wasn’t out of his pajamas before 1pm is annoying, but it doesn’t even make the top ten list of things that annoyed me today. I finished picking up the house after that.

My living room once again looks like my son exploded in it. It makes me well up with tears to admit that in writing. I don’t think of myself as a clean freak. There are messy parts of my home, just like anyone else. But the parts that I have made an ongoing and consistent effort to keep clean are the ones I want to be kept up. I’m not asking anyone else to clean them. I’m not asking anyone else to clean anything, actually. I just want him to pick up after himself, and pick up after X when he’s watching him. Perhaps my requests aren’t as reasonable to others as they seem to me.

So with my environment out of whack, along with my sense of sanity, I don’t have any big expeditions planned for today. I will need to run to the corner store at some point, but I don’t really count that. It’s less than a block away, and I usually don’t have anxiety about going there. I know all the guys who work there and they’re very nice to me. I can still see my building from there. I don’t know why those things make a difference, but they do.

I’m not sure where all of my day’s anxiety is coming from. I don’t know whether it’s from getting more sleep than I’m used to, or walking out to a disastrous living room and kitchen, taking a vicodin last night, or residual anxiety from doing a lot yesterday. Whatever the reason, it is what it is and I need to figure out how to rise above it.

I’m open to suggestion.

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