There are good days, there are bad days. I’d decided in my head that today should be a good one. I checked out the weather forecast, rearranged my day off work to make the most of a fine spell, dreamed of hills I might stomp over, and photographs I might take, folded maps and packed a bag ready to seize the day. I even knew how much better I’d feel at the end of such a day: physically tired, but mentally refreshed. As plans go, it was a pretty damn good one, if I say so myself.
Only depression doesn’t work like that. You don’t get to pick and choose the good days; planning doesn’t work any more. When I woke up, today was a bad day. No reason, it just was so. The sun shone brightly through the gap between my curtains, the birds sang invitingly of fresh green Spring… and I just wanted to stay under my duvet and hurt.
This is where being a grown-up sucks. I prised myself out from under the duvet, drank All The Coffee, drove the kids to school, sourced 4 safety pins (child 1’s urgent and essential need du jour), unearthed two tombola prizes from the Drawer of Unwanted Gifts, and found (child 3’s) Coat That Was Lost. It wasn’t a bad impersonation of maternal coping, if you ignore the cracks (hair brushing, smiling, ability to feign any interest whatsoever in children’s day…)
And now I have a day off to myself, which is bad, and two days of work ahead, which may or may not be worse, who knows?
I hate all this.
So sorry you’re so low. Well done for coping. Sending you a hug. And damn those flowers for being so pretty when you’re feeling awful!
Yes, damn the flowers, and damn blue skies and cake, and nicethings!
Damn them until tomorrow when they might be allowed to be nice again.
What does the Doctor have to say about it? Have you got a decent one for this sort of thing?
holding you tight and sending love
Chocolate still tastes good, though?
Just quietly holding you.
Hugs, cake, things to break, duvet.