Do you remember that moment when you learned to ride your bicycle when you realized you were actually doing it? And as you reveled in the air going through your hair you faltered just for a second and promptly fell on your head?
That's where I've been the past two weeks. June was great. Filled with a lot of fun stuff, maybe a little too full. I was handling things, staying positive, taking one day at a time instead of worrying about my month full of busy-ness, parenting in a way that is meaningful and important to me, and most of all cheering my switch to Zoloft. And then boom, I fell.
We did not spend an entire weekend at home in June, and we won't spend a single July weekend at home either. I think one of my keys to sanity is to have downtime at home. May was so busy with end of the school year activities and appointments; I was proud that instead of panicking 'how will I do it all' I just told myself to look no further than the day at hand. And it was fabulous. I felt so capable, so calm.
June brought Maya's dance recital (a wonderful, but long, long day), a trip to NY, a family birthday party to attend in Gainesville, and then July 4th with my in-laws. The laundry was piled up. Dishes were in the sink even though we were not home. The children, and everyone else for that matter, got on my nerves incessantly. Way too much yelling at the kids and arguing with Erik. Lots of eating anything that wasn't nailed down. I dreaded making the July 4th trip, being away from home, having to be social and cordial with others. Even my husband wondered if my medicine stopped working. I must have had a strange, faraway look on my face, as he doesn't always know when I'm feeling badly. Everything was just becoming too much.
I indulged in several naps on July 4th, and slept a bunch despite the various events we attended. When I woke up on the 5th things didn't seem as awful as they had the whole week had. The rest of the weekend was nice, and when we got home I started in on the mountain of laundry. I'm still feeling more irritated by little things than I'd like to be, the house is messier than I'd like (yep, dishes still in sink. At least they're different dishes than before.), but for the most part I feel like I've climbed my way out of this hole. We're heading out on a roadtrip on Saturday. I'm feeling ok about the packing.
I'm reminding myself to return to basics. To remember hope. To enjoy the small things. To let go of perfection.