i would like to be able to write that all is well
to have a cheery post, full of laughter and sunshine and delicious meals.
tales that my homeschooling is on track
that i have abundant energy
that i have conquered my habit of yelling at my children
that i have it all figured out.
but i don’t.
i cannot come here and write that all is well.
to put a name to it, to call it out, to focus on what it is, is so painful and frightening.
to finally acknowledge it for what it is.
to stop faking it.
to admit that my days are so far from even adequate.
that i cannot remember to wash my children’s clothes, or put things out for dinner, or have the children brush their teeth in the morning, take my library books back in time.
does this seem trivial? am i just whining? do i just need to put on my ‘big girl panties’ and do?
i never thought i would be in this fog.
i feel like i have had a wonderful dream. the kind where i wake up and it is so wonderful that i immediately try to fall asleep again to get back into it.
but i can’t. it is there... just out of reach. and no matter how hard i try, i cannot get back to it.
and now it is fading. i cannot even remember what was so good about it.
why did i want to go back in?
elusive.
horrifying.
depression.
