Too Much for One Day

About Chinooks, dog shit and never really resting
Sometimes things pile up so intensely that you can barely still turn them into a coherent story. But that is exactly what I tried to do here: to give words to what otherwise only feels like suffocation. About noise from outside, stress from inside, survival mode, migraines, dogs constantly having to adapt, and a system that leaves no room for rest. One day, perhaps like so many others, but for me the drop that nearly overflowed the bucket.
During our walk last Wednesday, they flew almost directly above us, just over the treetops: a Chinook helicopter. The roar of the sixteen-meter-long helicopter hovering above the trees hit our bodies as if we were vibrating from the inside out. Our walk had almost failed already, but this moment overshadowed everything. We wanted both to flee and to dive into the car, yet at the same time remain standing there with our camera in hand in case it circled back once more. The air was heavy and gray and I do not know exactly what it did to me, but it felt as if my body was being torn apart by the noise and tension, while my mind desperately tried to process everything as though it were normal or even fascinating.
As if that was not enough, my mother had another one of her usual dog pickup and drop-off circuses that evening. Our large regular babysitting dog, who almost feels like family and always walks with Mart and me during our walks, suddenly needed a babysitter himself because my mother’s kitchen is being renovated. She is extremely anxious and apparently even begged a kitchen installer because of the stress. That week the dog first came to stay with us, but then had to leave again because the puppies my mother calls “my babies” were arriving. The large dog was pushed aside to another babysitter where he does not like being at all. I had already suggested earlier that he could stay with us from Tuesday evening until Wednesday afternoon so we could simply take him on our walk. That would have meant my mother only had to spend about an hour and a half with four dogs. But the answer was no, as always: supposedly too much hassle. Yet I know it is not the hassle. It is that she prefers all the puppies around her. She spins the situation that way, and not even for us, but supposedly for what is best for the large dog, who now once again misses out on a walk he would have loved. Fannar also walks better when he is there. And then there was the problem of a dog downstairs suddenly having to eat by himself. In the end it became another dramatic goodbye at the front door when the puppy left and only then was the large dog finally allowed to come.
The next morning started again in complete darkness. As always. Mart walked Fannar and the babysitting dog while I used that hour for everything else: preparing breakfast, cleaning up, trying to become a little human again. But because the large dog walks much faster, I had less time. I got overstimulated all over again. I barely had time to eat, pee or poop. And all of that has to happen on time, because if I wait too long to eat and my blood sugar drops, my chances of a migraine attack increase. Everything has to happen in silence because my mother is sleeping in the room next door. Which means: no lamps like I need them, doing everything carefully because any stimulus can make me spiral again. And fifteen minutes before Mart returns, I have to look through the window to check whether it is safe and quiet enough outside for him to come back, otherwise he gets overstimulated by passing cars and people cycling to work. I can barely see anything in the dark through the filthy windows.
The only reason we still manage to go anywhere at all every week is because Mart drives. And the only reason he keeps being able to do that is because I make sure everything around it functions: enough healthy food, clean clothes, supplies arranged. He does the big visible things, but only because I am silently organizing myself into exhaustion in the background. And yes, that makes me feel like a housewife. Everything revolves around preserving his energy. But what do I myself still have left?
We could only drink our smoothie around nine in the morning, while we had already been awake and active since six. By then my blood sugar was already dropping again, so I ate cookies just to stop myself from shaking. And then it started raining. Hard. The entire garden smelled like dog shit because my mother lets her dogs out late at night and does not clean up properly enough. The smell crawls through the entire garden and up into our room. Fannar no longer wanted to walk through the garden with Mart. The only option left was the front door, but for Mart that is an overstimulation trigger.
The next day there was a storm. Nothing overstimulates us more than heavy wind. The highways sounded even louder, the wind came straight from the A12. Everything rattled, everything moved. Things fell over in the gardens, windows banged. The body wants to flee but does not know where to go. Mart still had to take Fannar outside. It felt as if needles were running across my skin.
And as if that still was not enough, the neighbors behind the apartment building started installing a new shower. The alley next to our house is being used by the construction company to drag everything back and forth. Instead of using the official entrance of the apartment building on the other side. Drilling. Sawing. Hammering. And before that we already had all the windows replaced.
It is too much for one day. For many days. But this was one of those days where all I could think was: how did we end up here, and how are we ever going to get out again?
And this is still just one day. Nothing exceptional. Just an ordinary weekday.