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Recently I've had to take some serious steps back to evaluate myself in all this. Since January I've lost 15 pounds, a combination of stress and not having the energy to find stuff to feed myself on this stupid diet. It's at the point where Mr. Clod has officially stated that I could stand to gain some weight back. I have also undone thousands of dollars of childhood orthodontic work, as my nighttime teeth-grinding has finally resulted in my jaw slipping back to wherever it was before they did that whole metal contraption in my mouth that repositioned it--so now my jaw clicks again, whenever I move it around. And a couple of weeks ago, I had a severe dizzy spell that lasted over two hours and finally resulted in my calling the paramedics because I was by myself with the kids and was really sure I was going to pass out. The paramedics couldn't find anything wrong, and their continued questioning about something that might have caused a "panic attack" well and truly pissed me off, because that particular week happened to be the freaking pinnacle of Minifob's entire existence, the best days he'd ever had. It wasn't a fucking panic attack, I was dizzy. When Mr. Clod got there, he insisted on taking me to the hospital to have basic tests run, because he personally was convinced it was a nutritional deficiency, but everything checked out okay.
But then I started thinking about it... you know how when you're working really hard on a project, you go and go and go and when you finally get a vacation, you suddenly get sick as a dog? I think that's kind of what happened, because that week really had been so good, everything was coming together and I had just begun feeling genuinely optimistic that he might have a full recovery within another year or two. But obviously there's a lot of work to do yet, and the paramedic episode forced me to recognize that I can't sustain this level of stress for that long.
So I've been working really hard on getting things off my plate, identifying which things I can safely refuse to even look at. We need to replace one of our cars in the very near future, and I have completely abdicated that task. Mr. Clod knows our budget, and he'll show me the final car before he signs, but I'm not allowing myself to spend even one minute on used car searching. And I told him to tell his mother that I simply will not discuss the question of Minifob going to stay with her in the summer of 2010 until my calendar actually says it is 2010. I'm still looking for other things to get rid of, but right now it looks like the best I can do is thwart anything new coming my way.
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