If I am being entirely honest, I am not good. I have done no school work with the girls while at the same time thanking the good Lord that they are still very young and don’t really need to know the periodic table quite yet. I don’t (really) shower, brush my hair and often wear the same outfit two days in a row – an outfit I for sure slept in. But, is it even considered an outfit if it is pajamas? Eating well? Sleeping well? Reaching out to humans? Ha.
If/when the girls nap, I lay in a ball and cry. If you asked me why, I wouldn’t know what to tell you. It’s the kind of free-floating anxiety that worries your husband and makes him decide to work from home. I have tons and tons of food but nothing to make. My house is clean but there is stuff everywhere. I want to take my first bath in my beautiful bathtub but I can’t muster the energy to turn my head off. It’s going and going and going and it just never ends.
I have always loved the comfort of being home. I am not outgoing, but I am social. I didn’t think I even liked going out, but now I do. I want to go try a new restaurant. I want to take my girls to the playground. I want to travel, go to the beach, host a cocktail party. I want to enjoy the city that I JUST moved to 6 months ago, a city that has so very much to enjoy. Please, I just need to fix my nails and eyebrows.
As a woman who suffers from depression and anxiety I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that knowing it is Groundhog Day every single day makes me want to shout from the rooftops “I ABSOLUTELY HATE EVERY MINUTE OF THIS AND I WISH I TREASURED THIS TIME WITH MY FAMILY INSTEAD OF WATCHING THE CLOCK TICK BY MINUTE BY MINUTE!”
If a picture says 1,000 words, this is what this one would say. Emma found nail polish and painted her fingers and toes on her own on our beautiful hard wood floors. Her black fleece pants (it’s 75 degrees) are covered in a mix of flour and oil because I decided to wo(man) up and make moonsand. Her red striped Christmas pajamas have been on repeat and she has worn that dress for 2 weeks straight with one wash in between .
I hope this helps at least one person not feel so alone. I am here, and I see you. I have changed medications. I have implemented new routines. My husband has saved my bacon by being present. I reach out, I asked for help, I attend therapy sessions, I WANT to feel better. I have learned my capacity, I know what I can handle and what can be left behind; however I am working on leaving things behind and not feeling the guilt. It is hard, really, really hard to be with two little humans who can’t do much for themselves, bark orders all day and are mini tornadoes. It isn’t until the end of the day when I lay in bed with them, Emma brushes her soft hand over my cheek and says “You’re my mommy and I love you”.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.