When my own overwhelm becomes boring

I just can’t at the moment.

Or more specifically, I don’t want to.

Everything and anything has crept up on me to face me full frontal and I have felt overwhelmingly heavy, with anxiety just on the edge at all times waiting to rear its ugly head.

I don’t do anything extraordinary day in, day out. My tasks during the day are not ground breaking stuff. My to-do list isn’t earth shattering; I’m not solving world peace or a cure for cancer.

But.

This mothering, full-time working, running a home, getting food on the table, fucking WASHING, bills to pay and basically sort all the shit has gotten the better of me of late and that silver lining glow is a very dim, very dim light that has been so hard to see that is has become illusive.

And I’ve actually become quite bored with my own internal complaining. The more I think about the “heap” the more bogged down I seem to get. The light at the end of the tunnel is no closer to step through, so I wont digress anymore for now as my own moan about WhenIsItAllGoingToGetEasier has become even bleh to me.

So, my current state:

Namaste peeps.

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