We are deep into summer. It’s over a hundred degrees outside most days. Ben bought a new window air conditioner. It’s nice. Mom dislikes it because she says it’s too cold. She keeps her door shut. But the two days we had no air conditioning she decided she preferred to have it. Of course, she doesn’t remember that now.

Belinda has finished summer school. She ended up with an A in her psych class, which she loved, and a B in her personal finance class, which she detested. She is trying to do extra credit to bring the B up. I’m glad she doesn’t get too worked up about that kind of thing anymore. She is at her job at the Tuttle Library right now. She has really enjoyed working there this summer. They are having a dinosaur tea party today as part of the summer reading program and she made the cutest cupcakes to take along. She hid them in her room last night so no one would find them and eat them!

Sarah will be at band camp from 8 to 4 every day next week. It’s going to be a long, hot week. I know she’ll enjoy it though. She likes band now and is proud of the part that she plays in it. She will also be in the musical Tarzan next weekend and the one after. She has really been getting into that as well. It’s good.

Ben had an interview for a job that’s actually in COBOL this week, and they requested a second interview. I don’t think it would pay much more than what he is making now, but at least it would be something that he really enjoys doing, and that he’s trained for and confident in. I’m happy for him. Plus the hours would be a little more regular.

Mom has gotten a bit worse. We had a pretty good system where she was okay watching TV most of the day and I’d do the things I needed to do. After this latest slip down, she gets confused by the shows and wants me to come in her room again and again to reassure her that it is correct. She doesn’t believe me. Like she watches the Lone Ranger and if he’s not on the screen for a minute or two, she gets upset because it’s the wrong show. She also feels like she should be doing something. She keeps coming to me and asking what she needs to be doing. I can barely keep myself together right now, so I can’t imagine giving her little chores or hobbies to keep her occupied. So I usually get her a snack and put her in front of the TV again, so I can keep working on whatever I’m trying to do.

The last person in this house is me. I am not doing well. I am doing very bad, matter of fact. I cannot keep existing like this. I can’t even describe what the problem is. It’s a million tiny paper cuts bleeding me dry. Mom’s needs. Sarah needing rides and direction. Belinda’s medical issues and support needs. I don’t even want to say any more because this is personal stuff for people I love but the gist of it is, I’ve spent my whole life helping others and serving others and I was very, very good at it. I was super busy but I was good at it. And now I am overwhelmed. I’ve read quite a bit about autistic overwhelm and burnout and I’m sure that’s what I’m in and I have been for a while. So I try to pull back and then start again but each time I restart, my window for being able to work properly seems to be getting smaller and smaller. One thing I read was that many high-functioning adhd/autistic women who are undiagnosed only discover their neurodivergence when they are in perimenopause. This happens because they have been able to handle everything and then suddenly they cannot anymore. I’ve wondered if the brain fog is from a medication, or long covid, and it may be, but I do think that it is also coupled with perimenopause and it is just beyond what I feel I can bear. Like I know God is with me through this but I am drawning. Absolutely drowning. And even when I tell my loved ones, I feel like they are sorry but they have their own problems and can’t help me.

I am looking for a second caregiver to come in. We all like the lady Mom has now but I need more than that. I also need Sarah to get her drivers license because taking her places is also just too much. And that sounds ridiculous. How could that be too much? But when it is added on to everything else it just is. I keep trying to find escape hatches or solves, and I haven’t found anything. I know I am an intelligent person, but the solution to this trap I’ve built for myself eludes me.

I am not at peace. I am a very, very long way from being at peace. Yes, there are moments of joy, but my entire system feels like it is full of static and disease. I love my family and I want to do things for them. It’s how I show my love to them. But it’s also how I feel love and the well feels so dry, right when I need more. A lot more.

I can fake it. I keep trying to fake it. I keep praying and deciding that I am thankful for all of this, and I get up and work and clean and serve and do but I’m still not writing. And that’s what my heart yearns for. But it seems like no one around me really cares that I cannot seem to do it in this state.

It was easier when Ben couldn’t find work. At least then I could get medical care. Finances are also bad. I’m getting to the point where I’m going to have to decide which medications are the most important for me, and which ones I can just cross my fingers on. I write my newspaper stories to help a little. But newspaper stories don’t pay for $1200 electric bills (hopefully the new a/c unit will help with that one next month). I also can’t get my brain to comply enough to do the other at-home job I’ve been working on. It takes real focus, and I just don’t have it.

I don’t want to be the person who plans things anymore. I don’t want to be the person who runs things anymore. I don’t want to be the person who thinks about things anymore. You know what I want?

I would like to have a nice quiet place where the temperature was nice and no one needed anything from me and I could work on my novel and read, and have my little garden (my porch garden has been a bright spot this summer), and write letters and cards to friends and loved ones, and just decompress and breathe and get back to where I can feel balance and peace and the beautiful presence of God in my every moment.

I’m not going to hurt myself, I need to make that very clear. But I do feel like when it is my time to pass away, it will be a great relief to be away from all of this.

I probably shouldn’t post this but I am going to anyway. Call it a cry for help. Maybe I’ll go back and make it private later.