This is the song on repeat in my head right now.
so I crawl underneath my blankets
where I can hide away, I know I can’t take it anymore
’cause I see now it’s just one of those days
I know quoting song lyrics is very Mysapce circa 2005…I suppose this means I’m forfeiting my rights as a card-carrying member of the adulthood club.
Ah well…being an adult sucks sometimes anyway.
So, as a preface, everything is fine. Life is going along just swimmingly. I just need to talk.
Some days, even for a couple of weeks sometimes, I feel really good. Everything is just brighter, I enjoy doing things and don’t mind interacting with people. I’m sometimes impatient and I’m often quite tired, but it doesn’t completely derail me. I have this sort of optimistic energy bursting out from inside me, and I can handle things.
These are the days or weeks when we do tons of messy art projects, and the times when I scrub down the fridge and vacuum the car and even clean the freaking garbage disposal.
This is when I reorganize the house, or plan an entire homeschool year, and basically feel equipped to tackle any problem. I even seek out problems, because I am a Badass Problem Solver and that is just how I roll. I decide I want to have seven kids and homeschool them all while we live on gorgeous acreage in the middle of nature in an Earthship that we built with our bare hands.
[Don’t worry, I only have about 50 more of these.]
And then, overnight, that energy is gone. Sucked from my body, leaving me an empty, exhausted shell. What goes up must come down–the physics of life, right?
These are the days when everything seems hard. The days when no amount of coffee can force me out of the haze. Things are dimmer, as if there’s a fog obscuring everything and dulling all the colors, all the feelings. They’re still there; I can just make them out through the mist but I can’t quite touch them.
These are the days when my body is filled with sand–heavy, wet sand. Just standing is exhausting, and being asked to push a swing or locate a shoe literally makes me want to cry.
I don’t need a break, I don’t need time alone. I get plenty of that, and it doesn’t help. Not during these days. The feeling, the greyness, persists when I’m alone, except now it’s staring me in the face while the minutes tick slowly by. Nights are long because I don’t even know what to do with myself. I can’t focus on or engage with anything, so the “read a book or watch tv or call a friend” list is moot. And yet, I dread going to sleep, because morning, waking up to simultaneous weariness and tension in my body and staring at another day with endless hours to fill, will come too soon.
But nothing is permanent. The good days don’t last, the bad days don’t last. I take comfort in knowing I’ll be flying high again. I just need to wait. Find a way to pass the days, and wait.