I found Poe, but someone stole my sheep

I have not been asleep 2 hours, yet. I couldn't fall asleep last night because I thought my heart was going to find a way to beat itself out of my chest. I just love anxiety. A few minutes ago, I woke to a pain that most closely resembles the thought of having someone take a knife to my abdomen without using anesthetic first. Nothing makes this pain to go away.

My freak, I mean friend, Beth and I had a really good chat tonight. I think she is the only one that can go from breakups to babies to death to our aging bodies to ways of torturing my co-workers to calming me enough to consider closing my eyes. She can relate to my life on so many levels including a pretty deep conversation on death and the bothersome traits of Christian wakes and burial.

Death has been a constant theme lately which doesn't help a girl with PTSD. Cardinal pitcher, Josh Hancock, died in a car wreck; and pictures of his SUV are everywhere I look. Very tough for me, reliving my own wreck has increased tenfold. A friend from high school, and current co-worker, lost her father to cancer. It was so quick...and reminds me of how quickly it has taken so many I know, especially Uncle Steve. I worry about her and having so much on her plate right now. I'm not sure if I could be as strong. She needs a break.

Like my conversation with Beth last night, I do not end on the note of death.

Mikey, you better pop out of your Mom's swollen belly this week. She needs a break from boredom. Come on out and show her how much she wishes she had this down time again. I love you, Sarah.