Therapists of all kinds talk about inhaling deeply. It feels good, I agree. But right now I'd give anything to exhale deeply.
Although I'm feeling much better overall, I'm still battling guilt over here. There are the small things -- guilt over going to work, guilt when I want to go to work, guilt when I want to ask someone to watch the boy, guilt over wanting to escape, guilt over complaining when I know how lucky I am to have such a great boy.
The guilt seems never-ending, and it's a yucky feeling in the pit of my stomach.
This week I've been trying to relax. What was impossible a few days ago is this week a reality -- time to myself, thanks to my in-laws coming to visit and offering up childcare most of the morning before I start teaching. Sure, I've done some laundry and run some errands with my time off of parenting, but I am getting closer to a moment: a moment when I can exhale completely.
I'm almost ready to check my voicemails (My voicemail is terrifying at the moment. I have 15 unheard messages, and I'm afraid to look at them. I'll listen to them soon. Deep breaths. Text me if you need me, okay? The phone gives me massive anxiety.), to return to the world slightly renewed, refreshed, and ready for more challenges. I'm almost ready to write in my journal uninterrupted. Or even to write a blog uninterrupted by nappies and nursing. To get just enough time to myself to not feel resentment when I return to my new normal.
I know it's possible.
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