I have been having a slightly harder time lately. Skirting the edge of depression. I can tell because it’s harder for me to focus on things I’d normally be prioritizing, like writing on my blog, reading the blogs I follow, taking pictures while out walking, etc. I’m still more or less okay, though. Keeping my head above water.
Yesterday I finally got in to meet my new therapist. He’s not religious, but grew up having religion ‘shoved down his throat’ so he’ll have some reference to what I grew up with while I won’t have to worry about surprise proselytizing or the risk of secret offense because I say something negative about Christianity.
He’d had to reschedule 2-3 times because it turned out he had the mumps. He’d been vaccinated as a child, but vaccinations can wear off. I will probably be hitting a CVS today to get updated vaccinations now that I know mumps are going to be present in Indy this winter.
It was an absolutely gorgeous day yesterday, and I couldn’t take advantage of that to spend time walking around downtown Indy before or after the appointment, because my shoulder is fucked up. I don’t know what I did to it, possibly slept on it wrong, but it is inflamed and quite sore. Google has assured me it’s unlikely to be serious, as it’s not accompanied by other symptoms, let alone dangerous symptoms. It’s just really fucking painful.
Last night I lived dangerously and flaunted the rules by exceeding 6 ibuprofen in 24 hours without having been directed to do so by a doctor. I know I wasn’t exceeding the amount that has been prescribed in the past, though, and I really need to sleep so I decided I’d just go ahead and do it. It worked – I slept from 11 to 3:30, which is unfortunately pretty standard – but then, surprisingly, I fell back to sleep and actually got some more rest.
My shoulder is still quite painful, though, which is disappointing because I was hoping for more improvement overnight.
My husband informed me Wednesday that he’d decided to take Thursday off so he could do something with the kids, as it’s their fall break week. I’d already had to reschedule my therapy appointment multiple times so I wasn’t going to cancel it. They ended up driving 90 minutes away to visit a big cat rescue. Apparently Indiana doesn’t have laws against owning exotic pets, so there’s a bit of a problem with animals like tigers being brought into the state and not being properly cared for.
I’ve noticed that he’s doing a lot with the kids, and posting a lot of pictures on Facebook, and I’m fairly certain it’s at least in part motivated by a desire to show what a good dad he is, just in case it turns out I’ve been up to some nefarious plot all along and intend to make him fight for custody. A and my sister J agreed it seemed that way, and suggested I make sure to start posting pictures and such, too.
While I understood where they were coming from, the suggestion was instantly aggravating. I can’t play his little game. I’m already stretched thin just trying to survive. I’m still putting a huge amount of effort into keeping my moods stable so I don’t have a relapse. I’m dealing with the severe anxiety of reentering the workforce. I can’t start planning activities with the kids just so I can post pictures on FB.
It’s aggravating on another level, too, because Facebook is the place I went to all these years in order to be myself, instead of ‘mom.’ It was a space where I could have my own identity and not feel subsumed by marriage and motherhood. I’ve actually kept posting pictures and stories about my kids minimal over the years for that reason.
Oh well. He can be paranoid and posting all sorts of pictures on FB all he wants. Indiana automatically awards custody to the mother, so unless he wants to spend a bunch of money on a lawyer, he needs my cooperation for alternate custody arrangements.
I need to convince myself to leave the house and hit Walmart. I can get some epsom salt and see if an epsom salt soak helps my shoulder, and we have some other things we’re running low on, or out of, that need to be procured. Hate the idea of shopping with my shoulder fucked up this way, though.