With some disdain and a great deal of steel, she begins again. |
Coincidences. I always get a thrill whenever they happen. Like, this morning. The phone rang at eight thirty, earlier than it usually does, and as I happened to have been up for a couple of hours (the wee one had endured her first bout of explosive diarrhea and woke me up with 'something kinda funny is going on down there, mom', I picked it up. It was none other than Jo, my favourite cognitive behavioural therapist, and she had called to see how I am doing. Now, right off I wondered if the meter was running, but she simply said that we hadn't spoke in a while, that she was concerned about me and wanted to know if I had a half hour to chat with her, free of charge. I want to say it was a message from heaven but really, it was just a call from Jo. The thing is, 'free' is not something I've had much experience with as of late, nor has anyone for that matter. I told her how much I appreciated her wanting to do it, and she told me to make a cup of tea and then call her back. We spoke for forty minutes, and I felt much better about myself after. For one thing, she made of point of reminding me how far I've come, which I often forget, getting too bogged down in hating myself for not being where I want to go. She said she is pleased with how I've been handling things, that while I still have a lot of self-doubt and 'down periods', I'm leaps and bounds away from the angry, sad and paralytic being I used to be. I am making some progress, I have to admit. I have to try to remember this when I'm having one of my blue days. I have to stop rolling around in it because it seems the easiest thing to do. I told her that I was miserable yesterday, that I had a short fuse all day and that I haven't been as affectionate as I should be, but she said that given the extreme stress I'm under at the moment, this seems like a reasonable reaction. Do not make the mistake of thinking that it's normal to be happy all the time. We're human. We can't be happy constantly. I suppose I have it in my head that everyone else is happier than I am, and that this is what makes me abnormal. It isn't true, though. Most people roll around in blue from time to time. The wee one has three birthday party invites for this weekend, but can only make it to two. I will take her to the first one tonight, and M. will take her to another tomorrow (the parents are French and this will allow him to speak in his mother tongue, which he really misses). I am nervous about the socializing, as is my way. Busy, fretting parents who may or may not already know one another well enough to essentially freeze me out. Also, if the diarrhea situation is not under control by then, I can't foresee actually taking the wee one anywhere. Tomorrow is her little friend with cancer's birthday party, and I definitely won't be letting her go to that if she's not better. I had no idea that little kids were always filled with disease. I don't remember being sick constantly when I was that small. Is this new? Is it environmental? Are people now being born without immunity or what? I am really, really tired of vomit, phlegm, diarrhea and feverish foreheads. I can't imagine how the little person feels, given that the first four years of her life were essentially illness-free. We're actually fairly disgusting creatures when you think about it. |