Monday seems to have become the red letter day in my week. The day that our circumstances crowd into my head and I loose my tenous grip on feeling OK about everything. It used to be a day at home, just Grace and I, a day when I would get everything back on track after the weekend. Not one of negotiation and being prodded. Yesterday had it all, grinchy housework, petty squabbles with G in front of the child, stony silences and that crippling feeling of grey inertia. Coupled with a nasty anger that caught in my throat, rendering me silent lest my words escape all sarcastic and bitter. All this despite getting everything done. Despite Grace being totally charming and well behaved at the supermarket and despite the fact that I looked into the trolley at the checkout and thought, man we eat well. It even looks healthy. Once again conversations were had and reassurances made. More from me, but I know the intent is there on his part. We both mean well, we just get under each others feet sometimes.
After shopping, Grace and I shared one of those syrupy easter eggy type things in the car. I like hanging out with her, chatting. She's learning new words every week. Favourites at the moment are More (for anything good or desired), Bubee (for babies and children) Popo (for compost, she's going to be a little earth gardener, I can tell ). So not everything is crap. But there's a lot at stake. For all three of us.
I have very mixed feelings about taking anti-depressants. I never used to have any problems taking "recreational" drugs. The first time I had zoloft, I buzzed around the cafe where I worked saying that it felt like having quarter of an e every morning. Which it did, for a while. Then it just felt normal, but like all my feelings were in a jar over the other side of the room. I could take them out and examine them, but not feel them. Even the really great ones. My sex drive disappeared and given that I was unpartnered at the time that should have been OK. At least in a temporary sense. But I missed that edge. Nothing felt sharp any more. So I took myself off the pills and everything was fine for a while. The next depressive bout, I just got through with yoga and time. I didn't need to be medicated again until the post natal psychosis hit. I quite liked the lithium and would have kept taking it for longer if it wasn't for the gastro style side effects. I've been reading up on it all again at my favourite site for mental health obsessives, crazy meds. Thing is, if I go to the doctor and talk to myself sternly enough, maybe I can do it without the drugs. It will just cost more. And be harder. It's not that I think taking drugs is the wrong way to go, I just don't like them. But I will if I have to.
The Magic Roundabout Children, Rolf Harris and Coojeebear and much more besides. Just looking at that picture cheers me a little, where "there are so many gay things to to. When Sonny and Sally finished their ride, they played Giant Draughts, and then had a trip on the camp paddle steamer. Then went on anything again." Sign me up, is all I can say. Twenty cents, along with some other beauties, from the local oppy with the grumpy lady who ignored Grace going Hello, ello, ello and bye, bye, byeee to everyone who walked in or out.
Mum, Grace and I visited the oppy on the beginning of our walk to the outer fringes of Moreland. Checking out potential areas in which to live, should we decide to buy a house later in the year. Deciding that I don't want to live next to the freeway and thinking it would be better to move further north. Or to decide that we would still enjoy life with a (much) smaller backyard. We're not in any hurry, we could probably stay in this house for another 20 years. Just looking and considering which areas we like. And at least if I couldn't get my morning going early enough to get to the gym, I did walk up and down hills. For hours.