Hello darkness, my old friend…

I knew this was coming. The darkness.

When school ended and summer began, Giancarlo had a hard time adjusting to the transition to a less structured environment and his meds were fucking with him so I was inconsistent with them. I was tired and high strung, so he was high strung, and it led to about 2 violent meltdowns a day. I ran on adrenaline for those 4 weeks, and I neglected to take care of myself, so I knew that once Giancarlo started day camp, I would crash. It’s my pattern; once I have a chance to breathe and rest and let my guard down, the darkness creeps in.

Today was Giancarlo’s third day of camp and the darkness didn’t waste any time. It “snuck” up on me the way kids try to tip toe to your bedside at night but you know they are coming before they make it to your door… I couldn’t keep it away. I can’t let that get to me. This time, I am treating the darkness like a relative staying for a visit. I knew it was coming, and although I don’t know how long it plans on staying, I know it’ll leave, so I have the upper hand. Every other time, I was so afraid that it would get so comfortable that it would just stay forever, but now, I am confident that, like a storm, it will do its damage, but it is temporary. The wave will pass and I will breathe again without it being a conscious effort. I will once again be able to be alone without falling apart. I will be productive again. I will not listen to someone take care of my children in another room while I am lying in bed fantasizing about running away.

I know what I can be doing to make the darkness feel uncomfortable and start packing. I had a plan. I had yoga classes booked and appointments set up… but the darkness threw me a curveball, the sneaky shit. It either took advantage of, or paired up with a bout of vertigo, and of course this lovely depressing weather.

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But I still see silver linings. And the universe hasn’t abandoned me. Giancarlo makes sure I see the rainbows and he makes sure that he induces a good ol’ crying session when he feels the pressure building up inside me and we both explode together. Ironically (or not), today he kicked in his wall because he couldn’t get the rainbow in the game he was playing. It was much more intense than that, but I was in such a haze and it was all so much to process that right now that’s all I retained. Rainbow. Rage. Sadness. And then my son cradled me in his arms. My 6 year old beast comforted me after he kicked in the wall beside his bed.

Soon the darkness will pass. But until then, we are gonna cover it up with a Thomas the Train poster and we will drudge through until brighter days come again. Because they will.

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