I know what is wrong with me.
Okay, well maybe not completely, everything that is wrong with me.
But I know why I am so stressed about this house thing.
Almost two and a half years ago, once Kian was actually born after our house fire, I remember I was still on the operating table and I looked at Chas and thought, "We did it. He's here. He's healthy. Everything is going to be all right." I thought we could ride off into the sunset, a happy little family with no big worries except needing a bigger home and the usual worries about parenting decisions. I know and I knew then, that life isn't really like that. It is full of struggle and setbacks in addition to the love and joy. But I wanted to believe that things would, mostly, be fine.
Then two and a half weeks later, we discovered his heart problem.
Now, I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop right now. I'm waiting for the bad hiding in the great good thing that is about to happen.
I hate feeling this way. (in the sense that I can't protect my family from everything and also that my happiness is tinged with some anxiety over some nameless fear that is baseless other than the fact that life is full of hardships and they happen at some time or another).