Bad day

I'm having a bad day.

You know how I know?

I'm yelling a lot.

I'm restless and irritable.

I'm having a hard time with the girls fighting.

I'm having a hard time with the girls giggling and getting along.

I'm still in my pyjamas and it's after 11 a.m.

I'm not enjoying being in my pyjamas - the thought of getting dressed is overwhelming me. Because if I get dressed, then I have to get the girls dressed and deal with Sophie's negotiations and Lillian demanding to do it herself, which normally I can handle...but not today.

Because today is a bad day.

One of my favourite books is a children's book. It's called Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day by Judith Viorst. It's about this little boy named Alexander who has a day when nothing goes his way, where nothing is good enough, and where he gets in trouble. He decides he's going to move to Australia because he bets that they don't have bad days there.

Via Goodreads

At the end, he goes to bed and his mom tells him that everyone has bad days, even Australians. I'm hoping that the next day he has a better day...there is no sequel, but that's what I wish for him. A string of bad days is just not fair. One is bad enough.

When I was battling postpartum depression, the bad days had no end. Every day was a bad day. And then slowly, the string got broken up with beads of good moments, which turned into good minutes, hours, even chunks of day. And then, I had my first good day. And I have no idea when that happened, but that first good day was a gateway to more good and soon the good outnumbered the bad.
And that's where I am. I know today is just a bad day and that tomorrow, or even this afternoon or evening will be better.

But for right now Australia and my bed are looking pretty darn good.


Goofy kind of grief

I have given up my leadership position with Sunday School and received a letter from the Canadian head of the church wishing me luck and saying he'll pray for me.

I have resigned from my paid position with Avon (I'm an Avon lady! Or was...) and now my manager is actively looking for a replacement.

I have officially told my Avon clients that this is my last campaign and that in a week and a bit I'll be done and now I'm receiving the 'I'll miss you!' emails.

I'm feeling raw today...sad and empty and helpless.

Rationally, I know that all of this makes sense. That if I don't pare down now I won't have a shot of avoiding postpartum depression again. That if I don't focus on what's really important, I will find myself quitting in an emergency situation, not when I 'choose'.

But, it doesn't feel like I'm choosing this. It feels forced...just not emergent.

I'm grieving a goofy kind of loss today. I'm grieving the loss of who I had become since my youngest, Lillian, was born. I'm grieving the job I created for myself, the life I had been living, the responsibilities I had accepted when I was well again.

I'm grieving the shift from Julia to Underwater Mama. Again.

And this grief is familiar and just as painful as before, even though I know that it is temporary and that I'll rebuild in a year or so.

I know all this.

And yet taking time to grieve, to cry, to mourn this loss of me again feels necessary. And present. And it won't go away until I've dealt with it.


Bye-bye, Julia. See you on the other side.