My Brain is Melting

This is my frustration lately in taking care of my Dad: I have had the end of this play I have been wanting to write for a month and I haven't gotten it done.

Yes, I have been working on other things. I had to go back and forth between my parents house, my place and the care facility my Dad was in for a week and a half. I had to direct play readings that were about the Virginia Tech shootings. I've been making meals for my Dad, interviewing caretakers, taking to doctors and nurses and doing a care taker training at my house with my Dad's new caretaker. I have been busy. This is true. But this play is waiting to be finished.

My wing man, Larry, has even tried to motivate me by saying that the play wants to be finished and that I'll be so relieved when it is. I believe him, but this is the problem: All of the things I've been doing have caused my brain to melt.  I'm sitting in Starbucks at 10:18 PM on a Thursday night and I can barely keep my eyes open. I can't think. I've been trying to strike a balance between my Dad's stuff and Me. I want to spend more time with my boyfriend, who has his own stuff to deal with. He's got a wacky nephew who flew into town to appear on Judge Judy and wants to appear in gay porn. He's got a lot of gigs coming up. And he's not getting laid enough I'm sure. I want to do it all. I know why I shouldn't want to do it all. I know that I shouldn't feel deflated or guilty or like a loser or crappy. But I do.

It's the brain melting thing. If my brain was more solidly intact, I would be able to handle everything. I could think rationally and know that I'm not failing anybody. But I feel like I'm letting everyone down. It's my melted brain, I tell you. In 40 minutes I need to show my Dad's nighttime caretaker how to use our washing machine. I'm tired.