I am spinning in circles inside my house, around and around. Kitchen, office, bedroom. Kitchen, office, bedroom. I keep forgetting what I’m doing, but it’s okay, there’s always a child available to shout at me when I forget their drink/clothes/lunch.
“Make it for me, Mummy! MAKE IT!” the two year old implores as I look at her all curly haired and strangely angelic as she stomps her foot and demands a bottle. “Make it! I tired! I lay down. Make my bottle Mummy! Make it now!”
Around, and around.
No one sleeps for days, least of all me, and I am a frazzled nervous wreck. We’ve got markets on the horizon and stock is coming ready but where’s the time to pack and sticker everything when there are three children who need to be fed and clothed, and more soap needs making so we don’t fall behind.
The overwhelm is high and I’d rather just crawl into bed with a book, or netflix, both of which are ruining any productivity I may have had.
And so I spin, around and around. Was I making a cup of tea? Where is my notebook, has anyone seen my spatula, hey kids where is the puppy, god I think I microwaved a cup of tea an hour ago.
My sugar scrub refuses to thicken seven hours after I melted the blasted oils and I tweak the recipe on the run before deciding it’s probably the weather, the sunshine, the heater which has been running incessantly in my house because the eldest child is fighting with an eating disorder and spends all her time cold and getting colder.
Winter is coming, winter is coming. The rain has ice in it and the sunshine feels like a blessing from the Gods when I can stand in the sunbeams, silent and remembering to just breathe. Right before I remember the tea in the microwave and the oils in the mixer and the puppy tries to kill a chicken.
My calender is full, but we need another market because money is tight. Starting a small business is a labour of love, blood sweat tears all streaming down my face as I count the dollars and wait anxiously for tax time and the relief of bills paid and everything caught up on.
Until then I am spinning in circles, surrounded by the confetti made out of a thousand lists and chewed to pieces by a puppy and a toddler working in tandem while I look in another direction.
Hey Veronica,
I’ve been reading your blog for ages. I have EDS as well but I’ve noticed a trend. I was treated for an eating disorder in high school (requiring hospitalization) and a huge percentage of my friends who also had eating disorders were later discovered to have EDS. It feels like EDS makes you more susceptible to eating disorders for some reason.
Eating disorder are so so hard on both sides of the proverbial table. I really am hoping for the best for you
-E
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