since then...

So next week it'll be two months since my mother-in-law (MIL) moved in with us. It's definitely been a transition -- for her and for us. To be honest, these last 11 weeks have tested my ability to cope. As if the job weren't stressful enough (since returning from Wisconsin, I've been working 12 hour days + weekends), but playing counselor, listening ear, shoulder to cry on for my MIL has been exhausting. And ... add in mediator between my husband and his mother -- as they really haven't learned how to communicate productively between each other.


I would say for the first time in my life I met the brink, slowly watching the ledge I was standing on crumble underneath me.


At first I was in survival mode. I knew stress. I thrived off stress. I could do it all. Do it all at work. Come home and be the gracious daughter-in-law, while still managing the household of three adults and two dogs.


The first indication that things were not in fact great was a few weeks ago. Driving home from the cabin, I started to have contractions in my sternum. Pulsating. Nothing consistent, but when I felt the pointed, electric sensation, it took my breath away. Off and on throughout the week.


Until now, I've been very good at compartmentalizing, keeping my emotions at a distance, drawing on pragmatism and reason to problem solve. But soon I found that I was on the verge of tears at work. A simple, "how are you doing?" resulted in welled up tears in my eyes, unable to convince them that I was really ok.


One week passed and the chest compressions were getting more intense. Rick was teaching golf, and so one Friday night after work, I left the house without telling my MIL where I was going and headed to the clinic. Of course the concern was to rule out anything serious....after all, I was apparently at risk for a blood clot given the amount of time I'd been on the train two weeks prior. Blood pressure was high -- for the first time in my life. The EKG came back normal. Thank goodness. Blood test showed no evidence of blood clots. So that let me to draw one conclusion -- the mental and emotional stress was winning and I physically couldn't combat it any more.


All told, it's really been the convergence of so much so fast. In my eight years at my current company, this is the first time where I have felt alone and abandoned....to carry the weight on my own. And it's been no small feat to ensure that nothing got dropped along the way.


I also don't see an end in sight for our house guest situation. She's on the list at some properties, but the reality is that as winter sets in, no one will be vacating apartments, which means we're likely looking at another six plus months of taking care of her.


I find myself in limbo -- exhausted from a long day of work, yet not keen on going home. My husband and I are passing ships in the night right now -- between my long work hours and his new volunteer gig as an assistant golf coach at a local high school, which is now in addition to his day job.


The good news is that the dam has started to break. Work deliverables are starting to come to completion and so I feel that things are getting more manageable (albeit still long hours in the office and another good month of work insanity). I'm also starting to settle into having another "child" to take care of -- ensuring there's enough groceries, picking up medication, researching local resources.


With the help of some medication, the heaviness in my chest does subside, but as the day wears on and the dosage wears off, it returns in full force, like constant heartburn. I guess this is what happens when you grow up and realize that some times we are dealt a hand that we didn't expect.


I know things will work out. The MIL will get a place of her own. Work will normalize, as much as that is possible. I need to find my happy place, where I gain solace and much needed rest. I need a vacation. But in the absence of some much needed surf, sand and sun, I'm going to work harder to build in time with my friends.


Thank you to those of you who have listened to me unload. Thank you for your understanding when I've gone quiet. Thank you for making me realize how important friends really are. Thank you for letting me cry on your shoulder and giving me a reason to laugh. Thank you for your support -- both heard and silent.