I'm exausted all day and wakeful all night. I can barely function. When I do sleep it's fitful and full of dreams and if I don't keep waking up for no reason then the kids wake me.
It would seem that my biggest affliction is irony. Somtimes I can't help feeling like someone is playing with me. And then I switch on the television news and I'm reminded of how much worse things can be. Then I feel guilty for feeling bad. I only have exaustion, constant pain, two kids and a relationship in free fall to worry about.
Nobody tried to blow me up today. None of us is in danger of starving to death. No-one is trying to recruit my kids as suicide bombers.
Life is good.
Now if I could only make myself believe that.