Is The First 24 Hours The Hardest?

So if you're tired of whining and bitching, stop reading now. I can't venture that this blog is going to pleasant for the immediate future, but I've decided I'm better off writing than internalizing. So if you stumbled across this blog in error, I'm sorry, but this life, like it or not. If you're looking for the sugar coated stuff it's the second door down on the right.

I've survived the last 36 hours on 3 hours of sleep, a half cup of chowder, and a box of Kleenex. I discovered a new ailment today called "anxiety attacks" I have enough of a medical background to know that even though it felt like I had an elephant sitting on my chest in between the sobs, that it wasn't a heart attack. I also decided that I wasn't going to spend the weekend sleep deprived and gasping for air. So I drug myself into my doctor told him what was going on and that I needed a little help coping. He agreed and sent me home with 30 pills of sanity. I'm hoping tonight they'll bring me 8 hours of somewhat peaceful sleep.

My oldest son had escaped before everything happened to the beach house with his girlfriend. I took my youngest to his great grandmother's house so that my husband and I could talk this evening. It mainly consisted of him talking, me sobbing with a word worked in here and there.

His perspective it's all my fault, my perspective, some of it is my fault, I have work to do on my shortcomings and I'd do anything to make ammends. But it's also a two way street and I'm not walking it alone. He's too angry and hurt to listen.

He's moving into his own place when he can find one that fits his budget and we'll go into a holding pattern for at least 6 months. I have the name and number of a counselor that I will be calling Monday morning. Regardless of what happens I have to take care of me, with any luck perhaps the other will work out as well.

In the meantime, I'll keep my hand over the hole in my heart...