I’m on high alert a lot of the time. The past few weeks have been especially bad. When I meditate, or take a walk outside, I can temporarily hit pause on all the stimulation my brain is getting and it settles way down. Then, the volume shoots back up to ten.

I chew on the inside of my mouth in my sleep. During the day, I’m nursing a stiff neck, tight jaw, and headaches, while being emotional and easily set off.

I’ve identified as an introvert. It’s sort of a badge of pride these days, isn’t it? But being a Sensitive Person is less appealing. That doesn’t make it less true.

I’ll be in the quiet moments – reading a page of Richard Rohr over breakfast, taking a deep breath and looking at the big tree in my backyard, meditating, sitting on the sofa reading to the kids when they are listening (no one is bickering or teasing anyone else), and I’m OK – and then suddenly I’m back in on the superhighway going too fast with spongy breaks. There is not a graceful transition between the two. I’m trying to teach my kids, one in particular, that the only person we can change is ourselves. Meanwhile, I’m disproportionately reacting to my kids’ behavior, unable to turn down the noise or dampen the emotions that are ready to flame up at any moment. The irony isn’t lost on me.

Of course, the kids are aware that I’m super jumpy. We’re all fatigued by it. It’s not fun to feel like it’s Never A Good Time to ask mom a question. Or drop something on her foot. Or scream next to her head. Because all those things have been getting roughly the same response lately.

Balance between self care and other care is pretty elusive. My nervous system is operating on 10,000 rpm’s, when a lower setting would work way better for me and the rest of my household.

My library app is broken and so I couldn’t request the books about being a Highly Sensitive Person that I wanted, so I could feel like I was Doing Something without actually Doing Anything.

There might never be any break that would make me feel ready to face everything again. Yet being a grown up and a mom means I have to keep showing up whether or not I feel I can.

Have you ever gotten to that place? Where you’re so tender that everything feels like sandpaper?

Do you have any tips?I have my earplugs in, but I’m listening.

Photos taken on a day trip to Minnewaska State Park Preserve. We met my parents there, and seeing your family and not hugging them is terrible. COVID needs to be over, and it’s not.