There’s a growing funk (no, not the smelly kind) inside of me these last few weeks. The more I think about it, I’ve been less than excited, frustrated very easily, and just plain more overwhelmed than usual. There has also been an issue of feeling tired, emotionally and physically this past month. Maybe more. I’m not sure.
I’m having a harder time really managing my own moods, and I don’t think it has anything to do with being postpartum. I still have moments where I enjoy things, the same things I usually do, but a good portion of the time I just feel like I’m floating through my daily life. I have less and less interest in things, but I’ve been forcing myself to do things, go places, spend time with people. And more often than not I am glad I did force myself. I do have short periods of enjoyment. From small and sweet, to outright gut-busting laughter.
So, I know that I’m not a lost cause at this point. But I also know that this is becoming more than I can handle on my own. This is more than just feeling a bit off for a few days. Or possibly coming down with something. That “something” hasn’t hit. I haven’t been as emotionally tolerant as I usually am, I know it’s getting taken out on James. And because of that, and in the moment I can’t stop myself, I feel like a complete ass.
Which certainly doesn’t help anything, as I’m sure you can lament. That whole vicious cycle thing. Yeah, it sucks.
Even getting things accomplished hasn’t helped my mood. I haven’t been feeling that sense of contentment and peace after getting something done that has been weighing on my mind and nerves. Keeping things looking even halfway decent hasn’t been enough to help feel calm and motivated. Any motivation I’ve had lately has been pure Taurus stubbornness and frustration.
I’ve known for a while that I wouldn’t be able to go home to see my family, or that we would be able to go home to see our families this holiday season. I thought I’d come to terms with it. But with each passing day, my mood gets worse and worse. And more and more I find myself on the cliff of a massive cry-session. But I either can’t fall, or won’t. I’m not sure which.
And I know that I am, deep down, absolutely ecstatic that my husband’s schedule landed with him being here. And I’ve been on edge with the constantly shifting issues and schedule, but he indeed will be here. And for that I am glad. But despite that, which would normally be enough to make me content enough to really enjoy this part of the season….I’m struggling to.
I hope that it’s just a matter of a temporary bout of seasonal affective disorder mixed with not being able to see my families. That is something that can be dealt with. But having not really been all that affected before by the weather out here, it makes me doubt.
But hope seeps through from time to time when I do find myself enjoying to some extent the things I feel like I should be enjoying. My daughter for one. It’s not hard for her to put a smile, a genuine, to the core smile on my face. But other things, no so much. I’ve noticed that the periods of time that I find myself enjoying something are becoming noticeably short, and I quickly slip back into a numb or moody state.
What is most frustrating is that I can usually immerse myself in something that I get enjoyment out of, and I’ll snap out of little moods. But it is becoming increasingly difficult to do so. And perhaps, in my attempt to swallow the moods, I’ve done myself a disservice. Instead of allowing myself to fall off the precipice and just let myself feel all the emotions and to cry the negative energy out.
Perhaps that, and call to the doctor to ask about safe dosing of Vitamin D will be all I need. I can only hope that that is all that is necessary.