In the last week, when did I feel most alive?
Last week, before Paul left on a business trip, I was feeling pretty good about life in general. I'd had a nice Thanksgiving weekend, the house was in good shape, I'd manage to get dinner on the table and dishes done on a couple of occasions. All that combined to give me a sense of comfort in my home and a general feeling of well-being.
It was nice while it lasted.
In the last week, when did I feel the most drained of life?
Paul left on Tuesday and by Wednesday I was blogging about a lack of proper sleep and a bad morning with my daughter. As the week progressed, the insufficient sleep continued and the children were consistently challenging. Solo parenting while Paul was gone, I relapsed into some bad habits. The words to the Johnny Cash song I quoted just yesterday seemed so real to me:
Nothing worked out when I handled it all on my own
And each time I failed it made me feel twice as alone
This drained feeling continues as I speak. I'm tired and there is clutter and trash all around me. My CPAP equipment needs cleaning. Marley needs her bedtime routine. Last night she cried out in the midst of some of extreme sibling drama, "I want my daddy!" I understand that feeling. Yet, do I cry out to my heavenly Father? Not usually. I just beat myself up, shove the junk--both actual and metaphorical--aside and try to drown my sorrows in a Starbucks Peppermint Mocha (decaf, non-fat, no whip, extra hot in case you were wondering) and the television.
However, I can't ever leave without trying to put a little perspective on the downer part of this exercise. This is partially so you won't think I'm a big, complaining sissy. The rest of it though is for me--to give myself some much needed life context. So, yes I am weary and all sorts of failure as a domestic goddess. My children once again saw the Mommy monster (although let's be fair, there were quite a few visits from the were-children) and felt her horrible wrath.
Let me say again, BUT, BUT, BUT. . .
We got to spend Friday evening with friends.
My husband sent me a picture message from his phone of New York City at night along with a note telling me he loved me and wished I were with him.
He bought me some earrings, I hear, from a nice specialty shop while he was in New Jersey.
I got to spend a good part of Thursday day and evening with a good friend.
My walking and life discussion partner and I got back in the swing of things and so my body is better off and my mind engaged in great discourse. (Okay, it isn't all high-minded talk on the nature of life, the universe and everything.)
So, in spite of the crud, it was still a good week. Can't really complain about that, can I?