The week of mental limbo.
It's been slow & I feel like I'm in limbo. I hate limbo. We're planning on getting the house up on the market this weekend, at best. With crunching the numbers, we need to sell & fast. If the house doesn't sell by August, then it's back to work for me (or if we happen to come across an extra $800 a month). I'm not very happy about this & I'm really hoping for the miracle that it's going to take to make it happen.

I have a lot of different feelings about this & none of them are positive. I've trimmed the budget down as much as we could (surprised at how much we could cut out) & selling the house is the last step. We will have sacrificed everything in order for me to still stay at home with Logan. Just the thought of sending him to daycare kills me & makes me sick to my stomach.

There is still a little bit of hope that I'm hanging on to. I have a month. A month to either enjoy my time while it lasts & savor every moment of singing the alphabet & rolling around on the floor, or a month to wait for that "something" that's supposed to happen. The plan. The "everything happens for a reason". I hope with every cell of my body that it all works out. I'm trying my best to go with the flow. I keep telling myself that I need to continually learn how to be flexible. Life happens & there's really no controlling it. I have to do what I have to do.

I feel like I'm lost in the woods & have been crushed by a boulder. Here I am waiting for the rescue team to lift it off & get me free. I wait. And wait. Days & nights pass & I run through all of the possibilities & outcomes in my head. I ration the small amounts of food & water that I can get. I realize at some point that if I want to live, I'm going to have to cut off my leg.

Sending Logan to daycare is like cutting off my leg. It's the most painful thing I can think of doing. I'm waiting until the very last second to do it.