I need a ladder. Or maybe just a hand up.

A case of the mean reds. That's what I've got. Holly Golightly explains it as a feeling of being afraid, but not knowing what you're afraid of. Or, in my case, a general feeling of anxiety for no damn good reason. Overwhelmed. Underwhelmed. Just flat out whelmed.

M gets annoyed when I can't explain why I'm crying, why I'm upset. The fact that I can't pinpoint it just makes me more upset. It's a vicious cycle. I told him that I feel like I'm at the bottom of a deep hole. I can look up and see the light. I know it's up there. I just can't climb out.

Maybe it's that I'm so busy at work I feel like I'm drowning. I skipped lunch today simply because I worked right through it. (Those of you who know me well know that I do not miss meals. Ever.) M has been insanely busy this week, gone in the morning before we get up and missing a few evenings this week, and working late into the night when he is home. This has left most parenting to me, which is hard, people. Zoe has 30-45 minutes of homework a night now, which thankfully she mostly finishes at after care. I still have to check it, help her find/correct mistakes, and help her study for spelling tests, math quizzes, and other exams. I find that I enjoy doing this with her, which is maybe a throwback to how much I enjoyed school myself. Anyway, with that and dinner and getting her ready for bed and cleaning up the house a bit and laundry and paperwork it all just takes time and when there's no one to share the responsibilities it gets so a girl is flat busted tired at the end of the day.

I was looking forward to the three-day weekend, until I remembered that we have, as usual, jammed it full of stuff. No rest for the weary.

I know I will get through it. I always do. Sometimes, though, the top of the hole just seems so very far away.