As of tomorrow, I am officially finished with my probationary punishment, in terms of both time and tasks. I'm relieved. And pleased.
I have been growing depressed - I felt myself withdraw. Grow anxious. Get viciously defensive. Push people away who hadn't been swayed by the initial withdrawal. I grew increasingly sad and hopeless.
"Take more pills," Mom advised when I spoke to her this weekend. I nodded in agreement and upped my dosage, slipping into happy/encouraging mode when talking to Dad.
He does the same for me - the happy/encouraging act that can only be sustained for minutes.
"Pray," I requested yesterday. "The only time I feel anything less that miserable is when I'm praying."
And today - by the grace of God - was better. Not in that it was less busy or stressful. But I was less exhausted and despairing. I felt peaceful. Settled. Ready.
"Could you pray?" I request now because Dad's been off of chemotherapy for 4 weeks now. Abdominal swelling. Leg swelling. Kidney function. Excessive Potassium.
But he and Mom continue to run errands. Watch the girls. Talk to me by phone each day. I want them to be peaceful and settled and happy. So very much.
This weekend, I write the cover letter to apply for a new job.
I need to find an old version on this laptop before writing said cover letter - I'm not sure I remember how.
It's rained! Chienne hides downstairs. My weedy lawn grows once again.
Nobody won American Ninja Warrior. Did you see it? Were you as disappointed as I?
Who's excited about the Olympics? (Me. I am.)
I'm now longer very excited about this post though.
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