double-edged sword

I realized this afternoon that my sanity is hanging by a thread.  A very thin, weak thread.  

When it rains, it pours.  I've managed to queue up 7 clients for processing (amazing pictures and I'm SO excited to process them but I have priorities...), and I just received files for a rough 2/3rds portion of the bios and pictures needed for the NCF program (that was supposed to be proofed last week, and go to print today), and I have yet to sift through the Relay for Life pictures and arrange for prints because (of course it couldn't be that easy) I filled my hard drive to capacity and my computer said, back up and clean off some files or you're gettin' nowhere.  Tomorrow there's an interview with a new foster mom for my little sister (which I can't attend as I've already taken so much time off work), Wednesday Wil gets his cast replaced with (fingers crossed) a half-cast, and the services and burial for Gramma are on Friday which means family in town and a guaranteed 2 or 3 days loss in productivity.  And this second 'someone died' family reunion in less than two years is bitersweet in and of itself - it'll be nice to see everyone.  Except Gramma.  Because, well - she's dead... 

I haven't cried yet.  If I allowed myself to start now, I don't think I'd stop for days and days and days.

All this busy-ness is a double-edged sword.  Being so busy I can't stop has made it possible to not break down, to remain functional, to keep it together; the other edge of that sword is that I have not yet begun the mourning process.  I kind of walk around in a fog all day - I'm working, I'm productive to some degree, but completely unaware of progress, or lack of progress.  Reality creeps up on me throughout the day, distant fog lights threatening the comfort of the lacy darkness.  I avoid people - eye contact is dangerous and prying questions ar even worse because when they come I am hit with waves of sorrow; my eyes sting, and I choke back the turbulence of emotions that are churning along the ground like a powerful undercurrent waiting to suck me under so I can just.  keep.  moving.  

If either edge of that sword were to pierce my delicate swirling beautiful hazy fog, I'm not entirely sure what would happen.  For now I'm perfectly content to worry myself sick about deadlines, sick friends, and freeing up Gigabytes.  I'll have time to crash at the funeral... I hope...  and time to recover so I don't fall any further behind... I hope...

The good news for the day, the silver lining, is that my beloved Mrs. PQRS pulled through her surgery and is recovering nicely.  At least the good Lord knows he needs to give me a little lump of sugar in my bitters.