I'm breaths away from my break point. Though not what I would term "sleep deprived," I am nonetheless very very tired. I fight the urge to complain. Chris calls it martyrdom- and he's not being complimentary when using the word- martyrdom and sainthood don't necessarily go hand in hand. But I disagree. It's not that I'm being a martyr, it's just that I recognize how good I have it, so complaining about my trials seems ungrateful. But the problem is, because I try so hard not to complain, I let feelings of frustration and resentment fester. So rather than talking about the actual issues, I become tired and crabby and sharp - and it's not pretty.
The last few weeks are a perfect example. A broken ankle, a house full of stuffy noses, growing responsibilities (and stressors) at work, coupled with an unpredictable sleep schedule and little time to exercise, relax and rejuvenate have brought me to my break point.
I really need to focus on myself and my boys and this upcoming holiday couldn't come at a better time.