Mental Breakdown

Sorry but this is going to be a bunch of rambling…so bear with me.

Ok Sunday I had a meltdown of epic proportions. It’s mostly due to being chronically fatigued, having a tumor (which by the way, I have another ultrasound scheduled next week) and such.

For the past two years, I’ve been working three jobs. Why? I am a sucker. None of my employers want me to leave and I don’t want to disappoint them. I’m constantly racking in about 60-80 hour work weeks.

My sleep is fragmented. My fur baby is a special needs dog and she can’t get up and down the stairs alone and needs assistance. Every time she wakes up, I wake up too.

I’m going to school full time. I’m trying to cram everything so I can get it over with already. I nearly wiped myself out taking 18 credits in a semester.

I haven’t had time to get my Pap smear done in two years. I lie. I just haven’t made time to do it because there are other things I’d rather do. Like be an Instagram influencer in the planning community or hanging out with my friends or spending time with the family.

I’m not gonna lie though. I have a lot of help.

Homeboy who is also working a lot puts up with my bullshit, folds all our clothes, picks up after the fur baby, sweeps and mops the floors, and whatever else I’m too exhausted to do.

My mom cooks for all of us. She watches the fur baby when we go to work. She even runs errands for us, this includes grocery shopping.

Anyway, I pretty much bursted into tears and contemplated quitting my jobs or school or both. What I really need is to induce myself into a coma for about a month and I should be good. The idea of going on a vacation stresses me out immensely because all I want to do is…basically nothing. I want to be pampered like at a spa…facial, nails, hair…all that.

I look back at my childhood and think, “Damn, you’re so innocent and naive. It must be nice.” Now, I’m always thinking two steps ahead of everyone and it makes my brain hurt. I have to anticipate what my patients are about to do so that I don’t get caught off guard.

I’m a masochist. I’m a martyr. I’m a psycho for putting myself through all this…or am I?

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