blech

My arms began tingling about an hour ago, That tight, full, just shy of some sort of attack feeling like a lump in my chest. My head is now spinning, The chaos in which I currently live silently encroaching, Stealithy creeping up, cutting off my oxygen Until I vomit packing peanuts and masking tape. From where I sit like a lump of defeated flesh I realize this will never be over. I will never be done. I'm feeling very much like screaming until my head bursts, Jettisoned into space like some sort of fuzzy rocket, circling the earth. The tingling in my arms has become a full-fledged ache That makes me want to rip them from their sockets. I want it to be over. The packing and the moving a distant memory. I want my spouse to be normal again. The sluggish, pouty caveman gone from our lives forever. I want my girls to have their own rooms again, that I can send them to when they are overstimulated and ridiculous from the craziness that has consumed our lives.