I Can't Do This.

First, I re-read all the comments to my Update post yesterday evening. Thank you. I am feeling off balance and overwhelmed and your thoughts meant a great deal to me. I'm quite grateful for the words some of you wrote.

Second, I believe I'm falling apart.

I drove home today, weeping copiously three times. I woke to the sound of Mom throwing up and went to rub her back while she finished. Then I took out the icky trash bag and gave her water to rinse her mouth. I sat with her, huddled together on the couch in the toy room where she sleeps, and tried to calm down.

"I don't want to leave you." I said softly, though I knew Dad would be with her all week. But while she retched, he brushed his teeth and went about making his morning coffee. I gritted my teeth against criticism and know they'll be fine together. But he doesn't care for her as I do. So I fret.

"You have to go back to work. To your life." She said as firmly as she could. But she held my hand for a long time, finally squeezing it and insisting that I gather my pets and depart. So I did. But throughout the trip home, I thought of her. I called four times to check in, ask if she was able to take her pain pill, if she'd eaten, if Dad was checking on her amidst his cutting down trees in the yard. I only spoke to her once as Dad said she was resting most of the day. But she sounded better this afternoon, having eaten and read the paper and spent time sitting in the living room, watching the neighborhood out the front window. I wish I was there to watch with her and make sure she's OK. This is excruciatingly difficult for me.

I arrived home and opened the door for a happy dog and irritated cat. I nudged the thermostat down so the house would cool, reset my cable modem and wireless router and checked my email. Other Industry Giant wants me on the east coast October 16. I wrote a short reply to agree. Then I tried to soothe myself by the thoughts I'd had on how to structure the seminar I'll give while visiting.

My book chapter has been formatted and the proofs were sent along for a final check. I quickly downloaded them, glanced through the pages with a tiny bit of pleasure at how lovely my work was presented, then realized I'm too tired and unfocused for editing text right now.

Other Industry Giant called to thank me for my quick response and give details about the interview. Who to contact to set up travel. Where to stay, how to transport myself once I've arrived. Details of the talk and audience. Laptops and abstracts and schedules. I was attentive and polite to the lovely recruiter who called and I am grateful for the opportunity to interview for a position that I'd love to have. But I am freaking out over all the details. I'm overwhelmed and - I realized - terrified.

Chienne was peering out the window, so I went to get the mail, coming in to sort bills and ads and coupons. I left a pile of 'must be opened' mail on the loveseat and considered what I'd do first. Run to work and transfer files for a new project? Make sure my spreadsheet was updated for work tomorrow with VIMD on Project A? Look over my chapter? Re-upload the corrected files? Look over the halfway-done manuscript? Write this talk I will give when interviewing? Water my plants? Put away dishes? Scrub the carpet where week-old vomit stains wait? Grocery shop? Clip the cats nails or file down the dog's?

"Don't panic." I told myself. "You'll be fine. It's all OK."

So I took a shower and wrote a blog post. And now I have to start with one of the things on that list but I'm left with a feeling that I can't. It's too much. I'm worried and lonely and sad. I'm exhausted and crampy and feel like my body is launching an all-out revolt against all the stress lately. I want to lie down and read or watch TV. But there's no time. If I might be called home again - and I'll certainly want to go immediately if so - then I must handle as much as possible as quickly as possible while I'm here. Mow the lawn. Weed the flower bed. Write down the appointment with the AC maintenance people on Monday. Remember my laser treatment for tomorrow afternoon.

At least I have a list of things to do, I suppose. I just am really doubting my capability to accomplish any of them.