I'm the most...

lachrymose...

I've been in a very long time.

I used to be able to figure out how to fix things.  I was a fixer.  In fact, I have total clarity when it comes to fixing other people's problems.  Just not my own.

At the risk of indulging in self-pity, I'll say that I am a victim of my circumstances.  I've never made a practice of playing the victim, but I'm in uncharted territory.  This sandwich generation thing is so hard.  And I've had more than my share of problems over the last three years. 
I'm an affirmation addict.  Unfortunately, I've had very little of this drug of choice, and I'm jonesin' for an 'atta girl.  The Daddler is incapable of expressing approval or appreciation and since he is the primary focus of my energies these days, that can be painful.  I know in my head that he loves me and is happy here with me, but it still hurts when I go out of my way to do something special for him and the best he can do is say, "It's pretty good."  I made homemade ice cream the other night.  I've never done that on my own.  It took lots of planning.  A phone call to an aunt who doesn't use a recipe - when she says to check it in "a little while" and "add more milk until it looks right."  A trip to the grocery store, trying to remember the things on the list I left at home.

As much as I complain about The Daddler, he keeps me hangin' on.  I take care of the ones I love.  Way more than I take care of myself.  I'm no martyr.  But on the other hand, if anyone wants to beatify or canonize me, I'll be flattered.  Did you know that most of the saints were nuts?  There's a whole science devoted to them.  Hagiography.

Well, this is no longer making sense.  I'm going to try to get some sleep.  That's a rare commodity for me these days...