Here it is, July. The year is over half gone, and I feel as if I have been missing it. Except for those few bright days I took off from work while Mr. Barefoot was in CA, I have been wandering around in a fog.
Depression kinda sucks that way.
I feel a helpless sort of frustration. I know that there are so many things I want to be doing right now. I know that if I do them, I will feel better. Doing it, however, seems to be just out of my reach. Not that I am giving up on trying. Every time I lay down to catch a few hours of sleep, I vow to myself that when I wake I will shake off this sense of numbness and inertia. I just never seem to wake up with the juice to get it done.
Dishes are piling up, Mr. Barefoot did the laundry. Weeds are growing, and my peas crapped out on me earlier than they ever have before. The broccoli is doing well....it is sweet this year. I feel a frantic sense of hurry, hurry underneath the terrible lethargy that has me in its grip. The days of summer are slipping away, and I am wasting them fighting a stupid illness that has no business existing at all. The crappy economy has crept a little closer to our lives, and is beginning to effect life in Barefoot Manor more deeply. I feel like time is running out.
Like I said, depression sucks that way.
On the other hand~
I am going to be okay. I know this because I have always been okay, and I am a tough little scrapper when I need to be. Cheesecake is on the menu, and chocolate is chilling in the fridge. Things will be fine.
I look forward to spending some time in the cool shade, weeding my flower beds that are horribly overgrown right now. It will soothe me, I am sure. Tomorrow night, I will have the most rare gifts ever given to a mother: an evening in the house alone. No children, no husband, no need to do anything but soak up the silence.
It will be wonderful. I will not feel guilty as I watch Big Sprout mope around the house, suffering from the summer 'blahs'. I will not feel hounded by Little Sprout's constant bids for attention. I will not feel torn by the two of them fighting over who gets more of my love. I will be free to breathe.
The best part is that in a week or so I will look back at this post and wonder what in the world was so important that it drove me to feel this way. I will feel a little disgust at my own weakness, and a little embarrassment that I even posted this, and life will go on.
This, too, shall pass....