It’s Monday, and today…did not go well.
This weekend was great. Wifey had family visiting from Atlanta, and she took kids one and three to Canada’s Wonderland to hang out with American cousin and her kids, leaving me with kid two. He gets car sick, and didn’t trust his recovering wrist sprain to an amusement park, so we had Daddy-kid two day.
We hiked through the woods by the river, chatted about this, that, the other thing, and yet nothing at all. Several kilometers later, we had a picnic and then returned home to get to refurbishing a mirror that holds sentimental value to him. The weather closed in, so we watched great 1980s action movies.
Long story short, we had a fantastic time.
The Atlanta relatives were going home, so we had a big family dinner Sunday, a chance to hang out and catch up. We bitched and moaned, joked and laughed, had a wonderful time, and said goodbye.
I got to bed at a sensible hour, and got up at my normal 6:15, but I didn’t sleep well, and I was exhausted. Today I spent the day wading through the grey mist of depression.
I did everything right. Things have been good for a whole month, and all it took was one poor night’s sleep, one day getting up tired, to bring down the mist. That’s the bad news.
The good news is, now I can talk to wifey about it. We chatted for a few minutes at lunch time, which picked me right up and gave me the strength to push through the rest of the day. To fulfil my daily “must do’s.” To keep doing the right things.
I’m feeling better now, but it’s fragile.
THIS is life with mental health problems.