There’s been so much fog over my eyes for the last few months.
Now that it’s lifting, the brightness of everything is going between too much and not enough.
Why did I forget to really see things?
How did I not even realise I wasn’t noticing?
It’s like that fog got all up inside me, making me drag myself around, feeling full of dread, that pit of my stomach feeling.
The guilt, crashing great waves of it that didn’t let me up for air.
I should be doing this, I should be doing that, I’m being an awful mum, they don’t deserve me…
Thankfully, there was still enough of a whisper in the back of my mind.
One that said “no, you’re just finding things hard.
I mean, look at them – look at how amazing they are.
They are awesome. You made them this way.
I wasn’t really paying attention, mind, but my sweet friends wouldn’t let up,
reminding me of how loved I am, and how lucky I am to have such great people in my life.
And then the doctor’s appointment came and went.
Max’s asthma is now under better control, which seems to have been one of the culprits of the early night wakings.
He’s got liquid melatonin now, which is great as I can give him it during the night when he wakes (around 1-3am instead of 10pm-12am).
He doesn’t make a peep of complaint, where he could throw his melatonin laced milk across the room, hitting Zack squarely in the head.
I am rattling with pills for now, but I am myself again.
I’m calm, collected, and more able to deal with what Max and Zack can throw at me. Literally in some cases!
The waves have calmed, and yes, there are still some rolling around (there always are),
but at least I know now that they will receed. Ebb and flow.
My lil man only has so much energy, after all.
And as I’m freeing myself from these shackles, and breathing fresh air into my lungs again,
I’m becoming acutely aware of a need that I haven’t been satisfying for quite some time.
It’s become a yearning, a longing but still just out of my reach.
I’m itching to paint, and write, and use my big girl’s camera again.
I just haven’t *quite* got the confidence up to do anything. Yet.
What I have done, though, is choose a couple of books for my Christmas presents from the boys
(hey, don’t judge, they can’t get anything for me themselves yet!),
in the hopes that they will inspire and catapult me from this last stage of shedding this far-too-thick coat of depression I’ve been wearing.
I’m so nearly there.
I just need to take that leap in the right direction.
I have a feeling that these Christmas holidays are going to help with that.