It's the end of 2021 and the cold rain continues outside. I'm glad it's in the 40s or else we would have more snow than we could manage. I notice every creak in my body as if it's held together with glue and string and one wrong move throws off the entire delicate balance. I'm hoping to make some grand sweeping resolution to grow stronger in the new year, but honestly, I am barely able to make the resolution to get these thoughts rambling in my head out into words. I wake up and grab onto the day but it feels like I'm holding sand as it flows downward and leaves me holding nothing at the end of the day.
I'm on maternity leave. I love staying home and getting baby snuggles all day every day. Baby has a stuffy nose today and my anxiety ridden brain has self-diagnosed COVID as of course it's the worst possible scenario and not just a snotty nose from winter time. It's impossible to sit down without thinking of what is going to go wrong.
Elderly multigravida is what my discharge paperwork said. I feel so old and wise, but really my body is falling apart and it took me so long to realize the warm fuzzy feelings from having family... which I equate entirely to hormone imbalances that evolutionarily discourage us from leaving our young in the woods due to lack of sleep and completely irrational demands of motherhood. My brain feels like it's glitching and I can't connect the dots or I'm staring at something but I can't find the word for it.
There is one thing for certain - at this moment I am sober and so happy to at least have that.
It feels different, less highs and lows. More stable. Less chasing my tail, feeling like crap, mental fog, wishing I was at a different state of mind. I'm doing that thing that everyone who takes a step back from the rat race does - evaluating whether I want to go back. My pay isn't the greatest and some days is really stressful, but some days I put the stress in there where it doesn't really belong. I try too hard or push more than the clients are ready to go. The courts push hard in one direction and the client is running in the opposite direction. My confidence is low but I kinda muddle through some of the toughest conversations of my life thinking -how the fuck do most therapists continue to know what to say- or -am I doing this right?
I am holding so many things in my head like an overstuffed aquarium that needs cleaned out. I need to write. I need to talk. Need to process. And within all of these fears is this sense of dread that baby is growing and getting bigger and I will forget. I don't want to forget. I want to hold on to everything. And my 4 year old is demanding as ever and I try to be everything for him too, but I'm on 1 hours sleep at a time and physically falling apart.
So no grand sweeping gestures. No resolutions to run a marathon. I do want to slowly build my strength back up, take care of myself, let out these thoughts, sort them, catalog them with these pictures, these snuggles, these wild hormones that make me feel like all the world is so full of love but so full of destruction and disease at the same time. I think I need to make a list. More for myself than anything. I don't want to hold myself to weird, impossible standards, but I do need to figure out what I'm trying to do and how I can get there. I'm splattered right now and treading water.
