Bad Days

It’s been three days like this.  That’s unusual for me.  Of course I have bad days, like everyone does.  But not usually three in a row.  And not when it’s sunny out.  That’s when I can typically rally.  

Signs that I’m not okay:

– I can’t find my motivation.  I don’t want to tackle a project or play a family game or cook a fancy meal.  

–  I tell myself to stop the mindless scrolling.  And before I know it, I’m looking at the same memes again. 

–  Netflix asks if I’m still watching.  

–  I’m eating another meal… and I’m not sure which one it is. 

–  The zoom happy hours and family board games and good books… they can’t touch this.  They don’t help. 

– Tears.  Happy tears.  Sad tears.  Tired tears.  Overwhelmed tears.  

The first day, I sat with it.  It was Friday.  I still did my work and I sat outside a little and I went for a walk.  But I was sad.  And I let myself feel it. I ordered pizza for dinner instead of cooking.  I read my book and watched TV and I didn’t force any family fun.  I met with my friends on zoom, and I even rallied for a little bit. 

But on the next day, when I woke up in a foul mood again, I decided to fight it.  Another sad day felt self-indulgent.  And unhealthy.  Plus, the sun was shining and there were jobs to be done.  I rallied the family.  We filled an entire dumpster with crap from the garage and the shed.  There was an impromptu water fight with the hose.  But once we were all sweaty and tired, I let our little group disband without a fight.  They went back to their rooms for some peace and screen time.  I set up for an online cooking class with some friends.  My brother in law taught us to make soufflé, and it was a really good time.  I drank wine and cooked and then called each of my friends to de-brief and drink more wine.  It was actually quite lovely. 

So why was I still sad the next morning?  I cried through virtual church.  I had a couple of online meetings and then I forced myself to go to buy dog food.  And that was all I could do.  I watched some inspiring videos and cried.  I watched some bad TV and cried.  I read a little bit and cried.  I found out some sad news and cried some more.  Bea got me to rally.  She started making a full-on meal and needed my help.  We made spring rolls and fried wontons and wonton soup and rice and sautéed broccoli for dinner.  She pulled me out of my funk for a little while, and I’m grateful for that. 

But today had a similar, melancholy feel.  I had work to do, so I did it.  But I was lethargic about the whole thing.  I saw my colleagues online at a staff meeting, and it just made me sad.  I dropped the recycling off and I picked up a prescription.   The things that have brought a sense of normalcy didn’t help. They just made me sadder. 

I’m sitting at my desk, noticing the buds and the flowers that have begun to appear on the tree outside my window.  I have two thoughts.  “How beautiful.”  And “I don’t want this to be my Spring.”  

I’m not sure how to spend this evening.  I could melt into this lethargy.  I could have the kids make their own sandwiches for dinner and binge the rest of Schitt’s Creek and maybe read a little.  

I could rise to the occasion and help Bea with her history homework and actually check Cal’s reading log and look over Lee’s Social Studies project.  I could vacuum (again) and finally clean the bathroom and cook a real dinner.  

But maybe I’ll opt for something in-between.  Maybe I’ll call my mom back and toss a salad and grill some paninis.  Maybe I’ll settle into a Scrabble game with my husband and have one of the kids run the vacuum.  

I’ve lost my balance.  I had it for a little while.  I was juggling work and homeschooling and long walks.  I was painting and cleaning and cooking and reading.  I was resting by the fire pit and laughing on zoom with my family and friends.  

Now that I wrote that, it doesn’t look like balance.  It looks like perpetual motion.  Maybe that’s what feels good to me when I’m overwhelmed.  It feels good to be DOING.  That’s my default.  Maybe I have to get better at SITTING.  And FEELING. 

That’s why I write.  It slows me down.  It helps me notice.  It helps me to process and reflect.  So tonight, I’m going to slow it down a notch without slamming the brakes.  I’m going to try to sit and feel and notice a little more.  I’m going to try to breathe and pray.  

I’m going to play some Scrabble and ignore the dirty bathroom.  Wish me luck.