Don't you just love the whole "go on about your daily lives, don't worry about sitting in that football stadium/flying into LAX/visiting the tree in Rockefeller Center but BE VIGILANT." ???
Oh, OK. I'll keep an eye out for strange men with suitcases. Thanks for the tip, Tom Ridge.
My life pretty much feels like Code Orange right now. Keep it together, keep moving, try not to let the shit hit the fan. Try not to have a nervous breakdown. I have a laundry list of complaints and stressors and anxiety, none of which seem to be abating to any degree. If anything, it all seems to be getting worse and I feel positively paralyzed in the face of it.
Here's the thing: I'm 32 weeks pregnant with twins and dear readers, let me tell you, it is no picnic. I don't have the physical ability or stamina to do much other than feed myself and try to feed my kids. I feel piled on with business worries and moving worries and money worries and (God help me) Christmas worries and sick children worries not to mention my own borderline bronchitis/pneumonia/cough from hell which just won't go away. So some days I find myself sinking into a deep depression, the likes of which I haven't felt in over 6 years. I cry at the drop of a hat. I'm sleep deprived and sex deprived (doctor's orders) and rest deprived and financially deprived.
Other days I think, you know, it's really not so bad. I have a multitude of blessings. Of course I know this in my heart. But the self pity takes over pretty damn fast.
I really, really need some help in the form of a person who can come and just take over for me. And there is no help coming. The only available person out there is, of course, my mother. And quite honestly today I was thinking of calling her up. Things are THAT BAD. But I don't know.
I need a break, a Christmas miracle, SOMETHING, because Code Red is just around the corner.