So, I'm not really fading away.
I'm just pregnant. And have the cold from hell. And I chase after 2-3 little people every. single. day.
I wish I could remember ALL of those things when I'm in the middle of feeling like everything is falling apart and I'm having a bad day.
I know I'm allowed to have bad days, but in the midst of the exhaustion, sickness, run-down-ness, I forget that I'm allowed to sleep longer, nap more, do less. I forget and think that the sky is falling simply because the balls I have in the air are not as high or spun as nicely or are landing on the ground at record speed.
I am a bit of a drama queen on bad days.
Perhaps you could argue that because of past circumstances, because of my past experience, I am completely justified to feel like it's the end of the world when really it's just a blip. But my children don't care that I deserve the right to be dramatic. And my marriage certainly doesn't deserve my normal, everyday nonsense, let alone the over-the-top-unnecessarily-dramatic nonsense.
I remember sobbing in my therapist's office, months after beating postpartum depression, telling her that it was all coming back, that I was losing it. Again.
And she gently (although it didn't FEEL gentle) reminded me that it can't. That once you beat postpartum depression, that's it. It could be something else, but it's not 'coming back.' It doesn't work that way.
Then she asked me how I was sleeping. I had had the flu and the girls were both sick, so sleeping was not an option. She asked me how I was feeling. Ahem...flu! Then she asked me if I had any relief during the day. No, stay-at-home moms don't get sick days.
If bopping people on the head in therapy was allowed, this would be the moment. Instead, she just said, Julia, take a sick day. Figure out a way to get a day off.
So I did.
I spent that whole Saturday in bed, with my computer and the Bridesmaids movie, which literally made me cackle and laugh out loud, and a stack of books, fiction, non-fiction, parenting, goofy, and magazines and I napped and rested and emerged to eat and disappeared again and then spent the night on the couch with my husband, snuggling and enjoying life.
And you know what? I didn't get postpartum depression again. I felt SO. MUCH. BETTER.
It's amazing what a little recharge will do.
And it's amazing what creeping into the second trimester will do and breathing through your nose will do and being able to taste the food you've been craving will do.
So, dear reader(s). I'm not falling apart, the world isn't ending, and I'm okay. I swear.
Just a little overly dramatic when things get rough and pile on top of me.
Now I know where my three-year old gets it....so embarassing.
PS. PREGNANT!! :) Baby number 4 is on its way this September. Trying to stay in my skin and this moment and being excited. Trying so damn hard.