I will say that life is good. Just...good. I've thoroughly enjoyed my summer of just 'being'. We had the most minimal schedule - ever. And it was good. Actually, it was great. It was also just about all I could handle. Last year just sent me into an abyss that seemed to have no bottom. I'm still working on finding the light. I came across this quote today, and it is the first thing I have read in a long, long time that adequately explains how I feel most of the time.
Having anxiety and depression is like being scared and tired at the same time.
My oldest is entering high school in T-minus 36 hours, and I feel scared. Scared that I didn't do enough, teach him enough, counsel him enough - yet I'm tired of constantly worrying about it. I'm tired of sounding like the broken record I don't want to be. Tired of thinking about the needs of the kids, when I should be placing some importance on my own needs. Parenting is overwhelming to me at times - the precarious act of being scared AND tired, constantly.
It's the fear of failure but no urge to be productive.
This is a thousand times worse when you are a stay-at-home parent and a home educator. It's the time I spend on Pinterest finding all sorts of activities I will never actually do. It's the evil of perfectionism. It's my 5 year old that is still working on potty-training. It's my 7 year old that is still learning to read. It's my 15 year old that has horrendous table manners. I take all of these failures very personally. Even though they are not about me at all, and technically not my failures and the fact that the 7 year old can't read yet is actually pretty normal. It circles back to scared and tired. I'm scared that my 15 year old will blow it on the first day of school by spewing food on his classmates during the lunch hour and forever making the wrong impression. But, I have a serious lack of urge to do anything about it, because, after 10 years of lecturing him on a daily basis about the basics of mealtime decency, he still doesn't 'get it'. Same with the 5 year old that still has no clue about when to make the effort to get to the bathroom. It's the half-finished paint job in the open floor plan livingroom/kitchen that is stalled out because all of a sudden I am unsure about the paint color. Fuck it. Old spaghetti sauce stains are better than the wrong color of beige, right?
It's wanting friends but hate socialising.
Facebook is my own worst enemy. It's the friends that post pictures of fun that doesn't include you, but if they actually had, you wouldn't really have wanted to go anyway because of a thousand different reasons that have nothing to do with not wanting to see your friends. It's the desperate need to share a coffee with a dear friend, but fear of rejection so you don't ask. And besides, you're too tired to go through the hassle.
It's wanting to be alone, but not wanting to be lonely.
I'm an introvert, so spending time alone is almost preferred. Except when the anxiety creeps in that I'm alone too much and afraid that everyone thinks I'm standoffish. And so then I am a failure at socializing properly, yet to work on it would require effort.
It's caring about everything, then caring about nothing.
I care that my children are fed and clothed and cared for. Yet....there are days I don't really give a crap if they eat nothing but carrot sticks and popsicles, stay in their pjs and go to bed late. Some days it is just too difficult to keep the plates spinning. Ok.. Most days.
It's feeling everything at once then feeling paralysingly numb.
You read about the latest atrocity dealt to innocent people by various terrorist groups. You feel helpless, hopeless, deeply sad and distressed... and then you feel numb. You feel the stress of doctor appointments, committee tasks, emails, deadlines, activity schedules - no more so than the average person has to deal with, but for you, it all comes too fast and furious, and you can't process it all, so you retreat to your room and take a nap. And stay there. The kids are yelling downstairs.... The dog is barking to be let in... The cellphone is downstairs but you can hear the ping of text messages coming through. And still you do not move.
This has been my mental health struggle for the past several months. My don't-give-a-shit days number far too many still, but there is gradual improvement. At the end of the month I will be seeing a new counselor/psychiatrist, and I am pretty sure there will be a med tweak. I'm currently on Prozac, but I just don't like the side-effects. I feel 'flat', with little affect, my energy is super low and my weight is going up.
Now, for the good news, I bought myself a new FitBit for my birthday last week, and I love how it motivates me. I know that getting back into a regular exercise routine will help me in numerous ways - as long as the fear of failure doesn't get in the way. I also made the decision to take homeschooling by the horns again - on my own, without Calvert. I feel like this is a risky move - given my don't-give-a-shit attitude of late, but I can't take any more pressure like I had to put up with last year.
