Happy Father’s Day.
So far, we haven’t received any additional gifts since Thursday. We did use that $100 gift to pay the car insurance, which felt like the most urgent thing at the time. Still, I can’t help but feel the pressure creeping back in. My mind keeps racing—almost every waking moment is spent planning, imagining what selling and moving will look like. It’s exhausting.
It’s been hard to fall asleep at night, and even harder to stay asleep. The second I wake up, my thoughts go straight to all the details: What are we going to do? How are we going to manage this move? I try to focus on meditating on God’s Word. I try to hang onto His promises and lift others up in prayer—especially Tom. But I still find myself slipping back into problem-solving mode, like I have to figure it all out.
And speaking of Tom… he confessed to me that he slipped again last night. I’m very disappointed. But should I really be surprised? This kind of stress gets to him deeply, and that pattern—that particular “comfort” and “medication” for pain—is familiar. Too familiar. My heart hurts for him, even as I wrestle with my own frustration.
To top it off, we got a cutoff notice for the electric bill. It’s scheduled to be shut off on Wednesday.
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