It's noon, I just had breakfast. I've given up on the day already, I'm working it to keep from being demoralized. Maybe I'm just pretending that I'm keeping demoralization at bay when I'm really already there. I'm in the 2nd week after chemo and I thought these weeks would be o.k., but turns out they're not, they're grueling. And this goes on for how long? I'm finding that prospect daunting. This is all harder than I thought, or maybe I wasn't thinking.
I'm finding it harder to focus on anything but my immediate physical discomfort. I had a lovely night with J last night. Homework done independently without tears or too much complaining, lots of storytelling and silly dance moves, warm, cozy, if increasingly messy house. G had a good game, scored lots of points and showed me his notes for his argument today about atheism. He never shows me his notes but he said "you know mom, I really get my perspective from you, but it's really what I believe, you know?" How amazing is that? I'd pay good money for that comment, that fleeting moment of intimacy with my giant boy. But I only skimmed the notes, I didn't savor them, I was too tired.
I got boys out the door this morning and went back to bed and I think I'm headed for the sofa. My goal today is to get into the studio in the evening for the farmer's market, because my studio-mates will be there and it will be a cheery change of scenery. 4p.m... I can get somewhere by then, right? Boys are with their dad tonight and I don't like being home without them. Thus far, this day can get ripped off the notepad, crumpled up and tossed in the trash, no recycle, what a waste.