Stress of a New Kind

I haven't been sleeping much. Sometimes I feel like there is too much drama in my life and then I realize that just a few short months ago, I had a job that I hated, a boyfriend, and a psychotic landlord...I should be happy. Right? I have no job, no boyfriend, and a landlord that high-fived Spliff for breaking her foot while drunk and trying to slide down an inflated water slide. I know, life should be fantastic for me. But there is stress. It just isn't the same kind.

Lately, the little things have been irking me. Like, when Spliff ate all the chicken salad that I made (it was fresh and it took an hour)...or when OE started to try and have a deep conversation when I was trying to avoid deep conversation...Or when I looked in the mirror and felt like I was 250 pounds overweight. All of these things are stressors. All of these things make me hostile.

It has started to feel like nothing I do is good enough. Like nothing I say can fix what I have done and like nothing I do will erase what I have said. Then there are essays and articles and ridiculous amounts of reading...and there are irritations that would never have been irritations in the past. I feel drained. I feel like I have run a marathon...my body hurts. My brain hurts. My soul hurts. When will there be a band-aid big enough for a wounded soul?