I'm slowly finding routine again, for a while I felt like I couldn't write. I hated all my photos and everything just seemed like a chore. While my depression has been better, my energy levels were at a all time low and every fibre in me ached. Than half term rolled around, and I had no choice. I don't lie to the boys, they know if mummy isn't feeling well or mummy is a bit down. At the same time hearing things like 'I'll look after you mummy' is pretty soul destroying. No you won't, because instead were going to craft or go to the park, or pick up new books from the library. My inner mum voice that's usually stressing over the piles of washing I need to sort, gets upset and convinces me that I now have all this energy and were gonna have some fun if it kills me.
I'm not magical cured, trust me I comfort eat, break apart the dimensions of my being bit by bit till I feel like whats the point of anything while crying into my tea. This is something I do keep to myself, my irrational side -the side that goes from thinking about hat I need to do to five hours into googling all the worlds horrors. I've managed to keep that on lock down, but when the boys are around I tend to see things more logical. My boys tend to give my brain a shake, like get it together your the adult here and they look up to you for to find their way in the world. My other half was also off work due to hurting his back fun times, so we embraced it as a family. Not his back, obviously but that we were all together and that this week could be all chores and boredom. Or real time to be together.
I'm fed up of my depression and anxiety, stealing time from them and me. My new wink bag had come in the post, Barry (my other half) had treated me and I felt excited as sad as it sounds to use it. So we took the kids out each day, and wink came with me. Even on days that we just did simple things like going to the coffee shop, made me relax more. Sometimes I can forgot that it doesn't have to be a massive event. I think some of my best days were when my mum would take me out, all over London with sandwiches and my five pounds in pocket money. She made simple things fun, the city always felt magical because we were always out taking part in community events. In reality my mum had little money, and struggled with depression but she didn't want me to miss out.
I guess that's what drives me, that fear that I'm taking from them. In the week the boys had gone to Harry Potter tour (our eldest as part of his and Barry's present from me), I took our youngest to see Trolls which is possible thee cutest film I've ever seen. We had walks along the river, we went to museums and have started our Christmas crafts. I feel so much better for using that time well, not making excuses and pushing through my pain.
I'm starting to feel like myself again, and in turn I can focus on more. You need fun in life, time out from checking emails or time out from tidying the same crap day after day. I've made a promise to push myself more, even if it's just for a walk somewhere. I've started working on some new crochet projects, as it helps keep my mind busy and I'm trying to organise more to cut down the stress. The boys are growing up so quickly, and I don't want to miss a moment. I'm looking forward to 2017, not that I think it will be much different but I want to make more of my year. Rather than making myself promises, I want to finish all the things I've started that can be the hardest thing. I think next year will be about holidays and lots of family adventures, but for now I'm happy to just get back in a routine and be photobombed by my boys.