All the *Emotions*; All the time; All at Once

So, If you haven't heard, the title of my non-existent autobiography is: "All the things; All the Time; All at Once," because nothing ever happens one at the time, major events always happen together. 

For example, right now,  I am trying to manage the start of five-day-a-week in-person school, during coronavirus, while having my medical team leave me, AND--while they are leaving me--decide to finally listen to me regarding leg weakness, sensitivity, numbness, etc. leading to many more appointments, and a lot of stress.  

It is a LOT; and, because it is a lot, my emotional overwhelm has hit uncharted territory. I am sad and mad and grateful and loved and furious and humbled and devastated and more. So, right now, I feel like the book title should be "All the Emotions, All the Time, All at Once." 

Chris is saint-like in listening to me weep about my worries. He is reassuring and kind. He tells me that he loves me, and reminds me that he still loves me even though I am wildly different from the dervish-ing do-er that he married. 

In these moments I am grieving the person I was; I feel so loved; and I feel so guilty that this is where we are. (Yes, yes, I KNOW I don't need to feel guilty--Now I feel like I am doing this all wrong. Great. Let's add "inept" to the emotions list.) 

I am struggling to adjust to being a different person. I feel like I am losing my identity entirely. Remember this girl? 

This girl got excited that Chris invited over a few people from work who could potentially become friends (and I was desperate for friends). So, in one day, I made pumpkin spice macarons, flourless chocolate cake, butterfinger squares, pumpkin-zucchini bread, toasted pumpkin seeds two ways, and a cheese plate. 

Anyhow, that girl barely exist anymore, and it is killing me. Yesterday, I barely made it out of the shower by the time a friend arrived at 10am for a socially distant hello. We ate bagels that Chris picked up. I barely remembered to put out plates. Later, I did some laundry, ordered a hummingbird feeder (was overwhelmed by choices), and replied to work emails.  And then it was almost time for dinner--Chris made the reservation. There wasn't time for making ten different baked goods, or even one. If you told 2016 Amanda that she would not have made a single thing for a guest who drove an hour to see her for brunch, I don't think she would believe you. Who am I? As I think about it, the emotions flood so forcefully that I can barely capture them. 

Also, my thighs are numb. They don't hurt much anymore. I have the odd sensation of not feeling light touch, only a sense of pressure. I cried myself to sleep last night because I couldn't really feel Chris' gentle pat--which I so love. I love touch.  I am scared this numbness will keep spreading. What do you call these emotions--Loss mixed with desperate worry?

Oh, and since they don't "hurt," what do I do about all these medications? Can I stop now that I am numb? How do I get in touch with my doctor? The app? It certainly isn't worth a call on a Sunday night. Which doctor would I call anyway? Why am I in charge of all of this? This is overwhelming and confusing and frustrating and I don't like it. 

This Labor Day weekend, we are at home. Chris has gone running to enjoy the weather. We have had a few low-key friends visit for a cocktail, or a bagel (see above)-- and it has been wonderful. Mostly, we are staring at our laptops getting ready for school. School will be so good for me as a distraction, and I am looking forward to it (with all of the anxiety that comes with first-day-of-school jitters). I am trying to get through emails and work things, while holding a ton of emotion in a fragile jar next to me. This jar spills and breaks all the time. I feel like a mess, and I desperately want to be something else. I hope that school helps me get to that "something else." Fingers crossed.