Today is one of THOSE days. Those days where everything accumulates and I have to ration out my spoons for the rest of the day.
Now, if you haven’t heard of spoon theory in regards to chronic illness, or mental illness, have a read of this. Usually my days are fine and I can handle whatever is thrown at me, but occasionally the black dog – the black puppy I call it because we’re talking mild depression – comes and nips at my heels and pulls me down.
Today is one of those days. Those days where I leave the house, because the kids need to leave the house, and that in itself takes 30 minutes inbetween bouts of anger and crying in bed (and that’s just me!) because everything is hard and every little thing that goes wrong is actually a huge thing that goes wrong. But then once I get there I can’t do anything except sit on the matting at the playground, away from the other people (to minimise interactions), and try not to let the others see the tears behind my sunglasses.
And then it’s back home and back to bed, and even though the sun is shining I’m cold and shivery. My youngest comes in and says she’s hungry and that sets off the tears again as the thought of getting up to get food is just too much. So she hops up on bed with me and pats my arm, and rubs my back and gives me kisses.
After a rest I get up and get her food and do some dinner prep, but that’s a couple of spoons gone, and so it’s back to bed for me for a while longer, and here I am still.
I know it’s said a lot, but you don’t know what people are fighting, or what is a good day for them. Sometimes it’s the most unlikely people who are struggling the most – the cool, calm, collected, happy-go-lucky ones. The ones who always have the biggest smile or the biggest heart. The ones who seem to have everything sorted.
I really don’t know where I’m going with this, or why I shared it, except to say be kind, and don’t take people for granted.