I love the way tulips are always reaching for the sun, at once twisty and optimistic — I can relate to that.
I swear with all of this rainy, snowy gray weather and never-ending onslaught of germs, I thought I might break off the top of one of these bottles and use it for a whole other not-so-Pinterest-worthy purpose. So glad spring is here … just in time:)
I’m a very impatient person. I want the Walmart checkout line/Internet connection/school bus on the highway to move faster. I want my post-baby belly gone now. I want this weight (which is quite heavy for being invisible) lifted off my chest yesterday. I wonder which I’ll lose first: The weight or the crazy?
They say it takes nine months for your body to get that way, and that long — or longer — for it to go back to “normal.” I hate They. (Almost as much as I hate the women I see who had babies after me who are already back in their skinny jeans.)
So while I feel paralyzed by my anxiety and while I’m stomping mentally on the inside like a two-year-old because I’m not getting what I want right now, I’m at least thinking about making healthy decisions. Planning — whether it comes to fruition or not — keeps me from pushing my cuticles down past my knuckles. It’s possible none of this stuff will happen, but better to obsess virtually via Internet searches, going blurry-eyed from the bright screen light than to turn inward. It’s dark in there.
Drinking less wine. (I’m not even going to pretend to consider cutting it out altogether. Please.)
Using my yoga pants for their intended purpose.
But it’s not all talk and no walk. I said before that I was going to ask for help, and I did. Unfortunately, the perfect person to help me is not available until mid-December, but I’m going to wait it out. It’s like when you have a craving for a specific dish, but when you get to the restaurant, it’s a 45-minute wait. If you leave and try somewhere else, it will likely take almost as long but the result won’t be nearly as satisfying. So I’m going to hold out another six weeks for the ultimate mental health veggie burrito as it were.
I’ve also discovered the healthy wonder that is spaghetti squash. Not figuratively, but the real thing. The way it transforms when you scoop it out with a spoon? Blows my mind.
I’m sick of putting on a face for Facebook and only showing my bright side… it’s exhausting. So Lindsey Living is now where I’m going to come to be me. All of me. Not just “look at the cute thing my son did the other day” me. I love to write, but I’m a very private person so this is a big step.
Okay, so I LOVE being a mom. I adore my children. I do not wish to hurt them or hurt myself. (Sometimes I want to hurt my husband, but that’s for many different reasons). My daughter was born 12 weeks ago and she’s a joy. I was told when I went back to work that I would be SO ready and actually relieved to rejoin the living. Truth is, I’m not. I could spend every second of the day with Abbie and be perfectly, blissfully happy. I’m not saying this to make anyone feel like a bad mom who was indeed ready to get back to work. It’s just how I feel. So there’s that.
And then there’s this sudden, overwhelming imperfect storm of anxiety, irritation and sadness that has me mentally paralyzed. I’ve read on the interwebs that this could have to do with weaning. I remember feeling the same sometime during the middle of the first year of my son’s life. I sought help, I felt better. So once again, I’m seeking help. I hope that it is in fact helpful. In the meantime, I’m trying to keep it together, keep my job (which I actually really like) and not to scare the crap out of or totally disorient my family. All while keeping up with the laundry and dishes.
Sorry, there’s no cute pic or stock image to go along with this post.