It's R U OK Day in Australia today, a suicide prevention initiative aimed at encouraging people to talk about their worries. I've been thinking about this today, becuase I've been feeling
This blog has never been a shiny place for me to be a supermama, even though it is the space where I tend to turn my everyday dramas into lowbrow comedy for the amusement of me, my mother, and my mother-in-law. I am honest here. But in life, I absolutely believe in finding the funny wherever it lives. So I've been kind of absent while life has been a little more tragi than comi.
Since George was born my recovery has felt like I've been wading through quicksand. Slow. Painful. Every leaving of the house has taken a huge chunk of my energy and set me back a day or two. This week, George turned four weeks old, Keith finished his paternity leave, and we copped a round of gastro. It kind of flipped my last switch, sending my energy stores down from 50 % to 25%. I can't remember my old life, my old self, how I managed. I am panicky about how I will manage the future. Three small children to wrangle, and I can't do the washing up without a Bex and a good lie down to recover.
I called Mum, bless her linen trousers, and she came on the train and stayed for three days. Ivy hurled her guts up for one full day and then moaned loudly and theatrically for the next. Ted, small blonde tornado, motored from activity to activity leaving trails of Lego and art supplies and shitty Wiggles underpants. Georgette, happiest when cuddled, needed to be on the boob a lot. My milk supply, affected by the tummy bug, was down, so she's been feeding slowly and often.
I haven't been able to eat much this week. Nauseous. So I've been really feeling that sapping of strength spiralling downwards. The doc has run some blood tests. I tell you, I was gutted when my iron levels came back normal. I was hoping that I was anaemic, a nurse could shoot me full of blood with a giant comedy syringe and I would do jazz runs out of the medical centre and back into my busy, happy, energetic life. Nope. Normal, dammit. I do have to go and see her to discuss my thyroid though. A new and different beast to me. I have no idea what will come of that.
Last night, I had a little meltdown and unloaded to Keith in one of those inarticulate, gulping, halting monologues that feel impossible and pointless but end up releasing a great weight. I emailed friends today, told them I was messy and organised coffee.
I feel better.
Sharing is good.
How about you guys?
Are you OK?