Kaboom.

It's been almost three months since we said goodbye to California and made our way just about as far east as we could get, to Maine. Three months of trying to get settled into a home that needed a bit more work than I had counted on. I still don't really feel "settled", but it gets easier everyday. We made the drive in seven days (with plenty of hiccups along the way...) with five people and two dogs. Last month Mike went back to San Diego to get Justin, so now there are six of us here. There is always something to be doing, something to worry about, something that just HAS to get done. Between laundry, cooking, cleaning, homework, attitudes and temper tantrums, I think I deserve a serious high five for not being a xanax popping alcoholic yet.

I did say yet.

If it weren't for Mike, I surely would be. I don't always talk to him the way I should or the way he wants me to (meaning I don't tell him everything I'm feeling all the time) but he always knows when I am teetering on that edge of sanity and detonation. He talks me off the ledge. Most of the time.

In the nearly two years we have been together, we had never had a real fight. We both knew it was coming... all couples fight. It's just reality. It finally came last week. The first time I genuinely felt angry at him. It felt weird. I felt sick to my stomach all day. I felt entirely justified in why I was mad, and he understood and apologized. Im not going to go into details about what our fight was about. Somethings are just meant to be between us, period. But the simple fact that we had a fight was huge. In some ways it opened Pandoras box. I got mad at him again a few days later. This time, I was wrong. I had no real reason to blow up at him the way I did. We didn't talk much the rest of the day... we just took the kids out to play in the mud and distract ourselves. All day I kept asking myself why I was so angry. What gave me the right to talk to him like that? Hes done nothing but love me at my most unlovable times and he has never raised his voice at me. Later that night we talked things out when we got in bed. It was then that I came to the only logical conclusion about my outburst.

My outlets are gone.

I used to have a handful of amazing friends that I could go hang out with, chat with, vent to, laugh with... and they are all 3,000+ miles away. I had a routine. I had places I could go to let off some steam when the kids had me stressed to my max. I could drive over to the mall, grab a Starbucks and just walk around and let my mind wander for a while. Thats all gone. I stopped with any kind of fitness routine I had because it felt less important than the million other things that needed my attention around the house.

I've had a much shorter fuse. Been on edge a lot. I've been very snappy. No one around me deserves that. Yes, I have a lot on my plate. Yes, things the kids do drive me up the wall on a daily basis. Yes, these dogs get me just as wound up as the kids. Yes, 90% of my attention has to go to Bishop all day long which means household chores suffer. But I also have kids who love me and instantly forgive me when I am less than patient with them. I have a man who showers me with love and reminds me everyday how lucky I am to have his love in my life. I still have two useless dogs... but maybe one day they will do something cool like save a life.

Its my job to make time for myself. I have to ask for it. I have to insist on it. But I have to take it for the sake of everyone around me, and myself. Being angry all the time for no reason is extremely exhausting. I plan on talking with my doctor as well, just to be sure there isn't something else going on, but I will be making more time for myself as best I can. Making more of a conscience effort of understanding that the kids have stresses and worries just like I do, and their needs will always take priority over my own (as they should). Baby steps. They might be small... but they are steps to a new me. A me that my family needs.