I shared a photo and this caption on my Instagram feed this weekend. I am a firm believer in being honest, and sharing where I am at, mainly because it keeps me accountable and stops me shying away from life and festering away inside myself and also because I do know that sometimes the act of sharing where we are at can be helpful to others who see that we may look like we have our shizzle all together, but actually we also struggle behind the scenes.
“My crew – I’m struggling with #motherhood and #wifelife right now! I feel like I’m grumpy, snappy, and that none of them are getting any of the best of me. A lot on my plate and my mind. I feel like I want to run away for a week to be alone, or have them all go away and leave me alone at home to clean, tidy, sleep and just be for a few days! But then I feel horribly guilty for feeling like that!
Gritted my teeth and went out today and we had a nice afternoon carving pumpkins and enjoying autumn at Osterley Park, kind of a family tradition we have.
This too shall pass, tomorrow is another day, it’s ok to not feel ok, I know all the phrases. Mental health is never a straight forward thing, is it? “
This time of year, for me, is hard. I don’t really know why. Life has thrown some stuff at us, that has been harder than usual to handle, whilst managing all the normal aspects of daily life, and I am tireder than normal. I mostly manage my mental health fairly capably but for some reason, I am not feeling like life is right right now.
There is nothing alarming, I am not in a state of crisis. I am not suicidal, I am not self harming, I am functioning, I am doing all the day to day, week to week stuff, but I feel a bit more broken than normal, more tired, and that life is shades of blah and grey. I sometimes feel grey and blah is worse than the lows of the pit of depression or the horrible knife edge of anxiety.
I am irritable, I am grumpy, I want to be left alone, but I also want to be reached out to and told that everything will be ok. I can’t make up my mind if I want to be around people or run away to a beach alone. (chances of that are slim to none, unless someone wants to treat me to that!)
So I share. I talk, I hold myself accountable. I tell my husband what he already knows (the man has known me for nearly 23 years and we have been together for almost 20) and that I am just not doing as well as I want to be right now. He knows he can’t fix me, he won’t try. But he does give me space to talk, and he allows me to share what is in my head and he helps me to manage my fears and my worries.
I reached out to my therapist. Hopping back on that journey again.
You see, for me, it’s ok to not be ok, but I don’t want to stay that way. I want to be more than ok. I know that’s a massive work in progress, but I want to be there. I know it won’t be perfect, but I want better.
This too shall pass. I will feel better again. It’s will be ok. I will feel ok.