There are nights sitting around the dining table after the evening meal when I just don't want to get up again.
Getting up means dishes, bathtime, bedtime. Getting up means work.
There are some days when I don't have it in me to keep going.
But I do. Because I must.
Today was a shitty day. Being woken at 3.30am and trying to get back to sleep in a toddler bed (long story) did not help. Logging on to Facebook and finding I had offended a reader of the blog? Not helpful either.
But it's more than that. I thought about it today and realised I am pinning everything on our upcoming move. In my mind, the move will solve a whole host of issues – lack of motivation, cabin fever, accumulation suffocation.
Living in this 'temporary' state is frustrating. My home and the junk I fill it with are in desperate need of an overhaul – a massive spring clean is well overdue. I am a person who responds very favourably to clearing out and lightening the load (aren't we all?) – and conversely, if I am surrounded by unsorted clutter, both physical and mental, I get dragged down.
Being in a state of 'where to next?' for the last few months has resulted in what I call accumulation suffocation. Stuff keeps coming into this house and because I know we are not staying, it has been piling up without a permanent place to be stored.
And cabin fever – oh, the cabin fever. Let me tell you, living in an upside down two-storey house is the worst. It just isn't practical. Every time I need to go downstairs for something, the safety gate alerts the boys and if I don't want them to come with me (which is often the case because a quick job ends up being a saga of epic proportions), they stand at the gate yelling or crying or both. So invariably we all stay upstairs because I can't deal with the bullshit of getting everyone up and down the stairs.
And then there's the fact that Zee moves chairs to the saftey gate and climbs up. Shudder.
So our new place is, in my mind, the redeemer. I look to the move as a way to reclaim my mojo.
And in many ways, I know moving will provide a much needed boost.
But today it occured to me, what if I'm depressed again?
I am still very much a medicated little woman. That's how I operate. That's my truth for now. But I am and always have been on the very lowest dosage.
For the very first time, I am considering whether I need to up my meds?
B is a gem. He tells me it's no wonder I am stressed, of course I feel unmotivated, the enormous task of moving leaving me at a loss as to where to begin.
But still, I need to be careful that when the move is done and order restored to my little nest, that I don't fall apart.
I will need to watch my little mumma self, make sure I am giving her what she needs.
Because right now, she feels like running away and not coming back.
Right now, being at home with her family feels like slowly suffocating.
Right now, her coping mechanisms are way, way down.
And I know that's not authentically her.
I also know these can be warning signs.
My sons, my beautiful little boys deserve a better mumma than they are getting right now.
But some days, this little mumma wants to be somewhere else.