Good Girl

When I was 19, I moved into an apartment with 3 other girls.  The first week was frightening with all the new, "grown-up" responsibilities we were getting used to.  Setting up our own cable and internet, grocery shopping, dealing with an inconsiderate landlord...  The breaking point for me was just a couple of days in:  My roommates had the brilliant idea for us to each take a turn cooking dinner for the whole apartment one night per week.  That meant cooking a meal to feed 4 people.  Every week. At this point in my life my cooking expertise included cheese enchiladas and tuna salad.  An overwhelming feeling of dread swept over me as the rest of them excitedly discussed this "adult" meal plan.  I hid in my room for several hours trying to manufacture a valid excuse to get out of my cooking responsibilities.  I never found one.  And I never needed to, because the plan ended up only lasting one week... But the stress I felt about cooking a big meal every week was utterly crippling and caused me to spiral into an unreasonably long period of depression.

Last night I hit a similar breaking point.  For the past two weeks I have been the primary caretaker for a sick baby and a sick husband - and now a puppy with infant-like sleeping patterns and a fearful, clingy Zooey.  I was drained, on the verge of catching Little J's cold, and the stress of all the recent changes in our lives got to me... That same overwhelming feeling of dread filled me to the brim and every part of me wanted to curl up in a dark hole with my blankie and never emerge.  But I couldn't do that .  And I didn't.  The overwhelming anxiety I feel during times of stress is the same as it's always been... but the difference now is that I have people (and puppies!) who depend on me to stay strong.  So I snuggled my little babe, tucked him into his crib for the night and poured myself a big glass of cheap wine.  I may have shed a tear or two, but this morning I woke up refreshed and ready to tackle anything my new hectic life has to offer.  I can handle my responsibilities to my husband, my baby and my doggie.  So I have to have faith that I will be able to handle one more sweet, little puppy... even if she continues to terrorize her big sisterpup. 

Zooey is one big fraidy cat.