Today, I actually did something.
I did my reading for Bible in 90 Days. I did my Morning Pages, though they were split in half as I had to take care of my daughter. I journaled.
I ran the dishwasher, and later washed some other dishes by hand.
I set a timer for fifteen minutes and picked up my living room. I dusted my living room, too. Later on, I cleaned my sink.
These are all small things, but I did them. And afterwards, I felt great. I got everything on my to-do list done.
It’s been months since that happened. It’s been months since I’ve felt this accomplished, this calm. It’s been months since I’ve had this much purpose.
So today, I celebrate a “small” victory – which is, in reality, so much bigger.
About a week ago, I told my husband I thought I should go to a therapist. I told him I thought that maybe I had postpartum depression — and I knew I had some issues with being in a car, issues which really shouldn’t be there. A couple days later, I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to make myself a hot dog for dinner. Even the simple act of boiling water with a hot dog in it was a big task in my head. That’s when I realized that I was probably worse off than I thought.
I boiled the water.
Since then, I’ve started feeling better. I’ve been doing more things around the house, and I generally feel more capable of dealing with life and motherhood. And it’s only now that I’m realizing how bad I actually was feeling. It’s a bit scary.
I’m hoping it’ll last. I’m pacing myself – I’ve had a spurt of energy before and gotten tons of stuff done, only to lapse into utter lethargy the next day. I don’t want to do that again.
But I’m hopeful. Maybe I really can handle being a mom. Maybe I really can find fulfillment in motherhood, while also finding fulfillment in the things I’ve always loved. Maybe I really can have a house that doesn’t look like a tornado just went through it, maybe I really can cook…maybe I really can be a person with energy and purpose and joy.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be okay.