I think the feeling I like least in this world is when I am frantic about anything.  I am so exhausted by the feeling of being constantly out of control, constantly freaking out about something, everything is wrong, everything needs to be fixed right now OH MY GOD EVERYTHING IS SO SO WRONG.  Surely that’s normal, right?  Surely nobody likes to feel frantic.

Whether it’s school or home or work related anxiety, feeling frantic totally knocks me out.  This week at work was an insane week.  We had our Pre-Kindergarten sign-ups this week, followed by a day when our principal was out of the office, followed by a day when our principal was in the office, and let me tell you.  That last day when our principal was in the office wasn’t any less crazy than the day when our principal wasn’t.  The last three days have each been so insane, so utterly frantic, each in their own unique ways, that I arrived home every day in a semi-catatonic state.

As soon as I walked into the house, I have sat on the couch and just stared at the wall for about an hour.  During that hour, Zack has tried to get me to vent about what’s been happening that’s left me in such a coma of exhaustion, but I’ve been too beat down to even talk about it.  I mean, it takes ENERGY to be able to compile sentences to explain to a loved one why you’re totally pooped.  I haven’t even had the energy it  takes to figure it out for myself, much what it would take to explain everything to my significant other.

So I hadn’t explained anything.  Zack’s just been staring at me like I’m some weird mute-alien version of his wife and I’ve just been sitting here like a bump on a log, wishing I could verbalize what it is that has me so flustered that I can’t even talk.  Then tonight we went out to dinner, and while we were sitting outside waiting for our table, it finally came to me.  The problem is how damn frantic everyone is all the time at school.  I need control and order and systems and organization.  I have all of those things in my life, and I have them there for a reason.  I need them.  Hell, I went to therapy for control issues.  Therapy!  And so it makes perfect sense that a staff of 40 people running around a building for 8 hours a day like ants from a freshly-smashed mound, practically painting the walls with all of their frantic energy, would totally and utterly exhaust me.

We had a 35-minute wait for our table tonight.  I think I spent 27 of those minutes talking my way through the world’s longest run-on sentence, explaining all of these feelings to Zack.  Then my dear husband, ever concise with his verbiage, simply said, “You only have 9 work days left.”

That man knows how to comfort me.