Rising sun

So there have been some long strong fingers of light in my darkness since I posted this. That was Thursday and today is Monday so that isn’t too bad I guess.

The turning point came on Saturday, which is curious as Saturday was also the worst of it. I woke dark and stormy. Bleak, angry, incapacitated. Everything was too hard, too loud, too slow. I dropped things. I over salted food, I snarled and snapped. Bleak bleak bleak. I kept taking to my bed, wishing it all away, wishing it to stop. Hot silent tears streaming constantly.

But you know, kids can sometimes force you into a place you need to go as much as they can herd you into the place you hate. Chef actually had the day off and Felix had heard mention of the Maritime Museum. He kept asking. Badgering if you will.

So at about 1 I mustered some energy from god knows where and managed a shower. One achievement.

Then I got dressed. An impressive advancement.
Then I said if anyone wanted to go out they better get shoes on.
And suddenly, we were all in the car.

I’d grabbed some promotional kids on holiday in Sydney thing as I walked out and noticed a dinosaur exhibition on at the Australian Museum, so a vote was had and dinosaurs won.

Now in the darkest corners of my brain even a torch can struggle to cast light. But the thrill of seeing children marvel at the Harbour Bridge and Opera House, driving through the city asking about the buildings, running along low-lying sandstone walls and eagerly consulting floor maps of a museum can make even my most concrete of lows crack ever so slightly.

It was a wonderful afternoon of dinosaur bones, staring at dead insects and wandering among skeletons. It did a lot to break my mood. A ladder over the lip falling down into the dark pit, offering me an out.

I approach these shifts with caution – worried it will be some euphoric mania only to be swiftly followed by a nasty fall backwards. I am still treading with trepidation.

Yesterday was full of challenges with a baby who was unsettled and miserable all day, a big boy with a migraine and vomitting to boot, a child who fell asleep at 5 to wake at 9 and to still be truckin’ at 12 and so on and so forth. Coupled with an afternoon tea with friends it had the potential to send me whizzing down the slide to oblivion but I was actually pretty OK. Phew.

I put this down to heeding the advice of many of you – who said, ‘take a nap’. So, for two days in a row, I did. And while I’ve known I wasn’t getting enough sleep it was finally acknowledging that perhaps not getting more than 3 hours of consecutive sleep every single night for the better part of the last nine months was enough to make what has been a difficult year seem near on impossible that I think has helped me the most these last few days. Sleep. A miracle cure.