I’m asked, what’s my bad day like?
Well, it’s being up since 3am with a baby that won’t settle, being joined by a chatty toddler at 5am and watching my husband walk out the door for work not long after.
It’s surveying the piles of laundry that yesterday I was so sure I could tackle today. It’s continually holding conversations with my three year old when the need for quietness brings tears to my eyes. It’s watching his expression after I’ve snapped at him and then dealing with the overwhelming guilt because it was so undeserved. It’s being angry at myself for having this illness and wondering if it will be all he remembers from his childhood.
It’s dropping my son off at daycare and then not seeing a single adult again all day. The need is there but the want isn’t and that’s an upsetting thing by itself.
It’s having a brain that feels cloudy, I know it’s not working right. It’s lying to me and making everything confusing because my gut is screaming the truth, desperately trying to keep me grounded.
It’s my body telling me something is wrong but I don’t know what. My chest tightens and my tummy feels weird but I don’t know why.
It’s exhaustion even when I’ve had a good night sleep. It’s having no motivation to do anything but keep moving with the next thing on the job list.
It’s taking care of everyone and everything except myself. It’s feeling like I’m still failing in spite of this.
The worst part is not understanding why I’m even having bad days. I have everything I’ve ever wanted plus more. I’m happy, deep down I know I am. I’m incredibly grateful but that doesn’t seem to matter.