I mean like really and truly with every single fiber of your being exhausted. I am past the point of being tired. I am so incredibly tired that my fingers can barely find the energy to type. I woke up yesterday and had to run for the bathroom because I was about to throw up. I think I have just drawn from every ounce of my being everything that I can draw from it. I am headed into the biggest summer season of my photographic life and I barely have the energy to pull myself out of bed. I find that my photography is a bit of an “out of body” experience. No matter how tired, or upset or frustrated I am… I find that whenever a client arrives in our studio all of that melts away and I there I am once again finding the strength and passion that I always have. I don’t know how it happens because there are some days when I can barely lift that 12 lb camera. I trudge through the session never feeling the weight that just moments earlier burdened me, and come back to download the images only to find this amazing renewing of faith in myself. Once again I have found a new level of creative energy and I astound myself. I know that what has happened cannot have been of my own mind and body… there is no way that this person I am right at this moment could have done that……

I only wish that I could feel that way in every moment of my life. I wish that I could have that energy and passion about everything in life. I have very often thought about why that cannot be so. Why is it that I cannot be superhuman? What is being asked of me is superhuman. No parent should ever be asked to do what I do each day yet I muddle through and make it. But somehow just making it is not enough. I find myself wanting to SOAR through it all. To come out with a perfect house, clean car, perfectly prepared dinner, and nicely groomed children and I find myself failing. I fail to realize that this stress that I feel daily DOES affect me. I may not see it but I FEEL it. I feel it where no one can SEE. Everyone sees me and asks “How do you do it?” The sad truth is.. I don’t. I don’t do it … I can’t… I have passed the point of being able to push myself. I have no where to push myself to. And just when I feel like I can’t do any more… I can’t go another inch… I am forced to. Ky puked again last night at midnight. So after my head had JUST hit the pillow I had to drag my half asleep self into her room… put her in the tub, clean her bed, strip the linens, disinfect everything, and clean the carpet. To be honest with you… right now this is more than I can handle.

Why? Why now is it more than I can handle? Because I do ALL of this. I could make it through if I knew Ky was OK. If I knew that she was not in pain and that she felt good. But I don’t know that and this nagging feeling inside me tells me that something is not right. Watching her grunt and turn blood red and seeing that turn into SCREAMING trying to have a bowel movement… that is when I know … that is when it physically hurts ME to watch her. Seeing my half asleep baby covered in puke yet again at midnight last night… We had been several days without another “episode” and then bam… it hits you…that is when it became too much.

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