I’m like an absolute ANTICHRIST this evening. The house is freezing (have I ever mentioned before I cannot stand being cold? Full on, hate it. My fingers, toes and nose go numb at the drop of a hat and it makes me cranky as feck). I’m at that strange point in this whole process where I need to be either doing, or asleep, because if I’m not occupied with either of those, then I’m thinking. And thinking does not end well for me right now. Thinking is scary, overwhelming and very likely to spiral out of control.
Today was positive. I have the prospect of getting more support now than I ever have done, although it’ll be a good 6-8 weeks before it kicks in. So now I’m playing the waiting game. I feel like I’m in limbo – I’m waiting for the meds to kick in, I’m waiting to see how I’ll react to them (if at all), I’m waiting for this new group. And in between all this waiting, I need to get on with my life. I need to go to work, and be a mother, and a wife. That’s challenging. Really, all I want is to be left alone, with no demands being made of me. I know I’ve said that before. I know it’s not realistic. But at times the desire for that is almost overwhelming, and it makes the prospect of reality so hard to handle that sometimes I can barely breathe.
But, I’ve got to try. I’ve got to try and start to turn this around. It would be be so, SO incredibly easy to give in now. To say, enough, I’m not pushing any more. I’m not going to work, I’m doing the bare minimum at home, I’ve no more fight in me. But I won’t do that, for a couple of reasons. Unfortunately top of that list is probably guilt, which isn’t exactly the most inspiring motivator, but it’s certainly effective. If I were to give in, it would be asking too much of Hubby, putting too much pressure on him. It would be unfair on my kids for me to retreat any further than I already have. And for myself – would it really help? Hubby has likened this need to hitting the pause button on my life, that ultimately it won’t change anything. I’m not so sure – maybe it would give me the space and time I need to see if these new meds will make things any easier. Or, maybe he’s right. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything, and the lack of routine would make it easier for me to fall further into this hole.
Anyway, I can’t give in, it’s not an option. So I won’t. I hope. But I’ll give myself a few outs. If the evening time feels horribly overwhelming once the kids are in bed, then I’ll retreat to bed too. Sometimes, I just need the day to be over. Today is one of those days. Yesterday, I felt motivated to run and it was great. Today I don’t. Maybe tomorrow I will again.
Mostly I just want to get myself through the next few weeks with minimal damage, and hope that soon, soon, things will be better. I think I need to paint. Painting tends to be my therapy of choice when I’m in the recovery phase (wall painting, not artistic painting. I haven’t an artistic bone in my body). Two years ago it was my kitchen and bedroom. Last year, hall, stairs and landing. This time I think it has to be the sitting room. It’s as if by changing something in the house, and taking some control of my surroundings, it helps to move things on. Does that make any sense at all??
|Every one of those spindles took THREE coats of paint. Three. Art therapy??|