I’m there. I didn’t see it coming at all. The twice a year depression that finds me and somehow catches me totally unaware. The feeling that all of my friends aren’t really my friends. My relationship is slipping. Now that there are children in my life, I feel that I’m screwing them up with my behavior. It will be over in a few days. I just need to hold on til then.

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Facebook post from roughly 4 hours ago:

A friend told me that she misses reading my blog. I miss writing it. I also miss having the time to write it. Can/should I push myself to do one more thing? I’m leaning towards yes.

As I write this, I am rocking Juniper in his infant carrier seat with my right foot. I’m hoping in vain that I will have just a few minutes to put down a thought or two from the day. My days are ridiculous now with diaper/pull up changes, breast feeding, practicing my quartet music, crocheting and getting 3 meals on the table for Miles and me (Kofi’s only here for 1 meal a day). Time to write has all but disappeared. Tonight I’ve given myself the challenge to make it happen, even if what I write is total crap. It will be my total crap, and that’s good enough for me.

Huh, what was I going to write about again? Carina would probably remember. She said, ” That’s an interesting thought, you should write about that in your blog.”. Shoot, what was it?! The problem is I feel rushed since he could at any moment wake up and decide that he’s starving and must eat NOW. Think, Theresa, what was the conversation about? Oh! I got it.

I was saying that I thought the only reason that I’m able to get through these rough times (with even some of my sanity intact) is that each morning is like an emotional reboot for me. Somehow, every morning I’m able to wake up with a nearly clean slate. I put yesterday behind me and hope for the best for the day ahead. There are no guarantees that today will be better, but there’s a chance that it will be and that gives me hope. So, when the day has been particularly rough and I’m climbing into bed, I know that when the sun comes up again, it’ll be a little better. She asked if that was a philosophy that I fostered as a coping mechanism. “No”, I said, “that’s just the way I work.”. It’s sort of a selective amnesia I suppose. It allows me to keep on keepin’ on and I am grateful that that’s how my brain functions. It’s similar to the way women “forget” what labor is really like, so we can continue to have more babies after the first one. I forget how much I wanted to ring my toddler’s neck for talking back with a smirk on his face so that I can give him a genuine bear hug and kiss at the beginning of the next day. Of course I wish that I could be all zen-like and not let the talking back affect me in the first place, but how realistic is that? Not very, considering my low patience level and short temper.

Anywho, it’s late. I’m tired and a bit hungry. This was good! I’m proud of me. Thanks Carina for getting me back to the keyboard and into my head.

What is it? How do you know when you’ve reached it? That point when you know if you don’t get to talk to someone that understands RIGHT NOW, you’re going to completely lose it. I feel that I am right there today, teetering on the ledge of a great precipice. Logic is pulling me backward on to safe, sturdy ground. Frustration is yanking me forward into the depths of who knows what.

As the frustrations build and multiply, it gets harder and harder to keep the balance going.

Miles has begun his terrible twos and I’ve started by horrendous 36′s a bit early. Hitting, kicking, screaming, throwing everything he can think to throw when he doesn’t get his own way is now part of his daily repertoire. I’ve been assured by friends and family that this is normal and a phase that will end around his 3rd year. The prospect of more than a year of this control tug of war is enough to make a mother drink. Coffee that is (my drug of choice), and drinking coffee just makes me more crabby later in the day. I’m beating myself up for not being more laid back like Kofi. But, I wonder how zen he would be if he was in the trenches every day.

As Miles tests the limits with us by pushing, pushing and pushing some more, I have started to wonder why I have set so many limits on myself over the years. It has occurred to me recently that I am going to need a real career when I’m no longer a stay at home mom. I’ll be looking for something that I care about and will make a real contribution to our income. I’ve always just accepted that I would never make even half of what Kofi makes because I don’t have a degree. Even though many of my friends have gone back to school or done distance learning, I just never actually thought that I would have the money or time to do it myself. Well, I’m thinking now that this is the best possible time to start. In another 5 years both Miles and our (fingers crossed) next child will be in school and I can go back to work full time. When I do, I’d like to be a nutritional counselor. It’s what I do everyday anyway! I choose the meals that work best to keep my family healthy and I’ve been the one that family members and friends always go to for nutritional advice. So, it’s just time to take advantage of my natural love for food and health, while at the same time bringing home the organic bacon. Rereading this, it all seems almost positive. However the fact that I’ve let myself go this long without challenging myself to get a bachelor’s degree, is pretty depressing. I guess maybe that sometimes this is what happens when you get to a breaking point. You throw your head back, shift your weight onto your heels, swivel around, walk to the next precipice and start climbing.