August seems to be the month where laziness, and my cumbersome-self folds. The arrival of Fall beckons, and the stirring of our feet are heard more loudly (more rapidly). Stacks of forms, documents, and papers are shifted all over our kitchen counters, toppled books in our study, and the waiting game ensues.
On Monday, school started for us, the neighboring kids, and all the likes pursuing an education. The husband and I have been shuffling our children to-and-fro, exchanging hours of watching, and waiting at our state and community college. Oh, academia, oh academia!
This time last year, I was dealing with postpartum depression. Most of those days were negated in a world of conflict, and next-to-nothing self worth. I was easily irritable, anti social, and fell into a crutch of doubt and blame. At a time when I was suppose to find joy in having another child, I was heavey-laden with guilt. The facade of happiness was easier to put on than dealing with a spiraling feeling of everyday despair.
It took me a year, a move across the country, a great family physician, a leap of faith, and an-ever, forgiving husband to realize I needed counsel. I still take it day by day; some are better than others.
I realize that my posts can come across as verbatim "Oh, I am so blessed. I am so lucky. We have perfect days. We are so joyous," but life can't always be so resounding. However, I did create this blog to catalog moments of great weight; mostly anchored by my husband, two children, and our experiences (and maybe a few irrelevant posts).
I wait for answers. All. The. Time.
"Wind that topples her in a wave without spray
and substance without weight, and leaning fires.
Her mass of kisses breaks and sinks,
assailed in the door of the summer’s wind."
[Source]
I like to think Neruda was writing about me; mornings can be full, even if the heart is despairing.
