I don’t know why it happened … tiredness, full moon, hormones, sick bubbas, not enough time to myself … some / all / none of these? … but last week I slipped for a few days back to a head space I haven’t been in for a while.
It started with tiredness. Crippling tiredness – falling into bed as soon as the girls were in bed tiredness.
It spiralled down into unreasonableness … a loss of perspective … an overly emotional-take on everything … checking social media every 27 seconds.
It was when overwhelm, my old nemesis, appeared one morning as I made breakfast and became aware of that familiar feeling of 1000 computer tabs being open in my mind that I realised something was not Quite Right.
I did what I try to do often when I feel the impending gloom: I pretended everything was ok. Actually, more than ok. I wore bright lipstick and put on a new top which made me feel a bit like a Parisian. I hoped by feeling a bit fabulous that I could convince myself out of the rut.
A friend at school told me I looked French and I was chuffed and pleased that my plan was working.
I got back to the car and was exhausted.
Because pretending is exhausting.
And I was reminded of Glennon Doyle-Melton’s brilliant words:
People who need help sometimes look a lot like people who don’t need help.”
And you’re probably now going to say, “I wish you’d called, I would have helped if I’d known”, but you DID help. Knowing that I could call you, THAT helped.
And you know how I didn’t reply to your message for 15 days? By not getting the shits with me, THAT helped.
And by holding Lulu for a few minutes in the playground, for picking up my keys for me, by giving me a wave across the road, for listening to me while I railed about the boxes and the mess at the house … all THAT helped.
All those little acts of kindness, of normalness, they helped ever so much.
So did sleep – lots of sleep. So did the not cooking for a few nights. So did heaving my worries up to my Angels for them to watch over. So did imagining closing all those open tabs in my head. So did praying and listening, playing chants, and reading old favourite books.
And just as the fog descended, it lifted. I should know this by now. I do intellectually but in the midst of the fog it is hard to trust in the weighted overwhelm giving way to energy and lightness. But sure as day follows night, it does.
So, for those of you who may be in the midst of a stormy time, please know this.
For those of you who love someone who is in the midst of it, please know this too.
I don’t know if that would have helped me to read last week – some minutes it would have, others not so much … may this reach you at the right moment, and may you enjoy the warmth of the sunshine again soon xoox