This morning, Ian missed the litter box by a whole apartment and peed on my bed, with me still in it.
I couldn’t sleep. Stared at my ceiling, anxious because of the enormous amount of SHIT filling up my brain and there’s no way anxiety will give dreaming any space. Trust me I know my anxiety.
When my heart races with no physical activity to get her pumpin, I get a little upset. Why? Because I know it’s trying to keep up with my RACING thoughts going well over the speed limit. No breaks.
Once my thoughts make a few laps, time to bring on the panic-attack resulting in me crying for basically no reason, just thoughts. Overthinking, worry, guilt, love, what ifs, what if nots.
I’m now breathing in the aroma of cat pee and crying in my bed while I take deep breaths to try and gain control of the steering wheel again. Not yet concerned by the fact I’m still laying in the new designated litter box.
Sometimes I make myself sick with these unnecessary thoughts. SURE, we all think about these things, but let’s try and do it at a moreappropriate time!
I know that’s out of my control. It may be MY mind MY thoughts, but it doesn’t matter. This is MY bed, but this morning it became Ian’s litter box. It didn’t matter.
There’s a little peek into Morgan’s head. Laundry here I come.