I’ve had a good weekend. Friday I came home pretty exhausted but then I spent the evening reading a teen fiction book for work. It was good.
Saturday I took my boys to a Macmillan coffee morning at a local residential home. I was proud of both of them, just 10 and 3, as they chatted with elderly folk and brought a few smiles to their faces.
Saturday night was great. It was the eight year anniversary of the book group I go to, and we had a special meeting at the founder’s house. We had good company, good food and wine. I wasn’t drinking – about half the group were – but that’s OK.
But. And I’m not sure how to explain this but. But, something wasn’t right. With me, I mean.
My depression at the beginning of 2017 was a black hole. It was internal and the sadness overwhelmed me and tainted the world around me into a dismal grey.
This feels… different. Instead it feels like the whisper of a fog. It’s external. It pervades my scrutiny and yet I see glimpses of it at the corner of my eye. I don’t know what it is, or why it is. It’s just something.
One of the group came up to me at the evening and asked me if I was ok. She looked concerned. I said “Yes, I’m fine thank you” but even as I said it and heard the words leave my mouth I knew it wasn’t true. But I don’t know why.
Today has been pretty similar. I don’t feel depressed or even anxious but I don’t feel right.
I woke up and when my children had gone off with their dad, I went to the local garden centre to buy a gift for my sister. I didn’t particularly enjoy browsing the many gifts and homewares – I usually do – I didn’t go for the planned coffee in their lovely restaurant. I paid and came home.
As I put my bags down on the table, I thought about my aunties who were on their way for a visit and then my sister who I needed to see to pass on her gift. For a fleeting second, I didn’t want to see any of them. I wanted to be alone. And then the feeling went away again.
After my aunties had left I sat on the couch and watched some TV. This is a rare occurrence for me. Sure, it was enjoyable but I still felt… Meh. Another fleeting thought was that I wish I could have some time off from work. And then it went again.
When I saw my sister she asked me if I was ok and said that I didn’t seem myself. I tried to explain but couldn’t.
The only thing that I know is bothering me at the moment is my weight.
But the more I think about it, searching through the once closed doors of my mind where I used to hide all the things that worried me, I’ve realised that I’m just not looking forward to anything.
Life as a single working parent is tough. Each day is relentless. There’s little time for anything outside mother, teacher, home-made.
But you’ve had a good weekend! You’ve spent time with friends and family, you’ve had a chance to relax.
True. I have. I have had a good weekend. So… Why the ‘something’?
Am I due on my period? Is this hormonal? Is this frustration with my weight gain and lack of control? Am I lonely?
I’m missing that short bit of time when I cuddled on the couch, the children in bed. I’m missing the feel of a warm naked body lying next to mine. I’m missing making love to someone who makes my stomach flutter and my heart race.
I don’t miss my husband. I was missing those things when I was still with him.
I’ve not had sparkle in my life for some time. Rightly or wrongly, there is a part of me that thinks this is due to unhappiness in my intimate relationship. And the complete lack of intimate relationship now. And to add insult to injury, the belief that I need to lose weight to find someone.
Is that it? I have captured that elusive something?