Having dealt with a crippling bout of anxiety a few years ago, I have become quite adept at identifying the warning signs that my mood is going to plummet. Once I identify them, it is easy to ride out and not panic. Because panic is my special gift to the world.
Boredom, small things irritate me, frustration, feeling like I am on a hamster wheel - right.
Turns out, I was getting sick. And while the viruses were replicating inside my throat - they were wreaking havoc on my peace. By the time that the telltale aches started in my back, I was in full-on hibernation mode.
This morning, about a week later, I woke up... drank a cup of coffee, checked on the seedlings that will be my vegetable garden, and marvelled at the beauty of the late winter sunshine.
I am pretty sure I am going to start feeling better.
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I cut my hair very, very short. It has the magical effect of making me look both older and younger at the same time. I am still trying to "make it mine," as they might say on some style tv show that I don't watch.
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Lucy is having a period of regression. She is talking like a baby, throwing tantrums and using one-word exclamations even though she has a very expansive vocabulary that she is guarding.
Lucy (Pointing to something): Mama! Pwetty!
(She can say her "R's" just fine. It is this thing she's doing.)
Now she even has the other kids fooled. Annie runs in this morning and says, "Mommy! Lucy went peepee on the pot-pot!" Well, that would be interesting if 1) Lucy hadn't been potty trained for the past 6 months and 2) Annie wasn't 6 years old - too old to say things like "pot-pot."
Looks like my bout with melancholy set everyone back a few paces.
Here's to getting back up and doing it right.
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