Yesterday was not a good day. Actually, the whole of August sucked but yesterday I might have hit rock bottom. Which is a good thing because you can’t go lower than rock bottom, right?
Nothing particular happened yesterday, apart from Robin having a fever all day (day 7 of fever!) and having to send Maia to my parents so she can recover without getting more sickness from her sister. The doctor has been to see us five times this past month and I have phoned him every single day these past two weeks. He must be having nightmares about me.
So I spent a good chunk of the afternoon bawling my eyes out, feeling lonely and overwhelmed and quite fed up with everything. It’s not just the endless sickness, it’s a lot of small nasty things that have happened lately that finally broke me down. And the more I wallowed in my sorrows, the worse I felt. Added to the general feeling of misery there was self-pity (which I despise), needing a shoulder to cry on but not finding any (not anyone’s fault) and looking around me (on the internet because, physically, I was surrounded by dirty tissues, medicines and toys) and feeling that my family is quite possibly the unluckiest in the Northern Hemisphere.
Then I slept all night (only waking up six or seven times to check on Robin and give her yet more medicine) and everything seemed insignificant this morning. I read that a fellow Instagrammer lost her toddler daughter tragically. I read about another mum who lost her nine month old baby yesterday. I looked back at my day yesterday and felt deeply ashamed of myself. I, who have two daughters who are still roaming this earth, a husband who loves me at my worst, friends who do the grocery shopping for me and take care of my children when I’m too sick to move, parents who gladly take over my parenting duties when all I can do is lie in bed knocked out by medicines…I felt sorry for myself. I forgot how blessed I am. I focused on this month which is but a speck in the big picture of my life.
Today I promise myself (for the umpteenth time) to look at all the good that’s in my life. There are still sick children to tend to, a potential health problem which has suddenly made itself known, many many bills to be paid, a husband whom I barely see because he’s out working 18 hours everyday, a body that is still weak BUT I am alive. My family is still with me. I have a home, dirty and messy, with sofas I can’t bear to look at and a serious lack of storage space, but a home nonetheless. I have parents who move mountains for me, my siblings and our children. I have faith, which never wavers even though I haven’t been to church in months and even though I have felt a tad forgotten by the higher being I believe in.
And that is enough.