Ground Down

My promotion was announced...and then everything has become a blur.

I'm trying to fit appointments into a schedule that's already jammed, and major projects are now my responsibility. Remember how I was so cocky last week? Yeah, well...

So, my therapist (you have a therapist, right? Anyone who reads this probably understands that I think everyone should have their own therapist...on call...) and I had a discussion this week about how I need to set boundaries. I tried to not laugh when she asked me what I considered a reasonable amount of time to work each week.

"Fifty-five hours?" I lied.

Her eyes bugged slightly.

"Forty-five?"

She sighed. "Well, you need to stick with that limit. No working late, coming home to check emails...." and then her voice started to sound like Charlie Brown's teacher.

I know that the only way I will conceive and carry and have a healthy pregnancy is if I eat well, keep my blood sugars under control, and work...like a normal person. Except I'm not normal. I don't shut off. And I'm ground down right now.

Ground down is my personal term for "pinned to the wall". Mr. Monkey isn't working, and I have my own private freak outs about that whole quagmire (::giggity:: for all those who watch Family Guy) alone in my car on the way to work. He's not going to work any time soon, and I'm not going to pressure him on that.

So, instead, I'm putting in the hours so I can pay the bills, have the baby, and be the champion over-achiever.

What the hell am I thinking? Jeez. I'm too stressed out to even take the right cell phone to work and I'm barely making lists to keep the lists straight. I'm working between two offices right now. Two computers. Two jobs.

No babies.