When The Going Gets Tough

This is how I handle stress; when I feel under pressure I write about it. For years I wrote in journals, stuff that could keep a college full of physiology students busy for years. Today I write here, on my blog, for the world to read, why do I do that? I only know it helps me somehow. It makes me feel less alone because I know so many people read this. My Grandmother would fold her arms, purse her lips, frown and say I was "airing my dirty laundry in public" But such is life, we all handle our stress in different ways, most people keep it very private, I've never been one of those private people, with me what you see is what you get, I don't sugar coat or give false smiles, when I'm happy it's very obvious and the same goes for when I'm down. I don't disguise my feelings well. Right now, on Daisy, I am so completely overwhelmed with what I have to do and try and accomplish in the next 7 days I feel as though I'm suffocating. There's no way I'm going to get it all done even if I was to work 24 hours a day. This morning I was down on my hands and knees (again) trying to balance myself on the floor struts while reaching to sand around the edges of the galley, the dust was making me cough, the sweat was running into my eyes and stinging, my clothes were uncomfortable, wringing wet with sweat, my knees were painful from trying to hold my weight on the narrow struts which I kept slipping off while trying to shoo away all the flies, it suddenly all became just too much, and as I looked around me and saw how much I still have to do, and the mess I'm in everywhere, I just collapsed into a heap and sobbed for about an hour. I feel so alone here, I hate failure and I'm failing so fast its not even funny. Usually I can joke about this stuff and laugh at my inadequacies, but today I'm unable to find any humor in my situation. I offered to do this, I wanted to help, I turned down outside help because the cost of it was so extortionate and I was sure I could do it and save us some money. As usual I just bit off more than I could chew. If I just had one thing to do; the toerail, or the floors, or the doors, or any one of the other hundred or so jobs I've undertaken to do, I honestly don't think it would be a problem, but I have about 50 jobs started, nothing completed, and so much more to do I just don't know where to start. I'm procrastinating now sitting here writing this I know, but its because I'm so overwhelmed, I want to stick my head in the sand and pray it all goes away. Writing is my therapy, it helps me, and I now feel able to go back and start again, God help me I hope I survive this...