"I want you to try to remember every day all that you've accomplished and not what you didn't get done," said my therapist last week.
"Easier said than done," I joked back.
"Just try," she responded.
"I will, I will," I quipped as I bundled up my purse and hustled out the door, already running through my mental shopping list and deciding what I was possibly going to feed the hoards that night.
I met with my primary care a few weeks ago and we agreed to increase the dosage of my meds. For whatever reason I really wasn't feeling the effects as much.
Unfortunately, I'm now questioning taking the medicine at all. Despite taking it before bed to avoid the sleepiness, I am exhausted all the time. Not just my normal tired, but "I can lay down at any time of the day and fall dead asleep" tired. L came up to me on Sunday and asked my why I was always sleeping. I'm also not so sure how I'm feeling on the medicine. I didn't expect to all of the sudden be Suzy Sunshine, but I was hoping it would help me face my life with a little more enthusiasm and joy.
Yes, I've been able to handle my stress a little more calmly, but I also feel like I often don't really care about anything. I'm wondering if it had anything to do with my lack of Christmas spirit this year. I was thinking this morning, that maybe that "edge" I carried with me throughout the day was what helped me get everything done that needed to be done. Our house was certainly a little more organized and I honestly think my lack of writing in the last few weeks in a direct result.
Simple said, I feel "off" and I'm not sure this off is a good thing.
I've really struggled with my homework from therapy. I can't help but tally all the things I didn't get done during the day while trying to recognize what I did do. Does reading with L mean as much as the piles of laundry washed but unfolded in bins? Did the fact that I went to D's game last night instead of spending a little extra time with M studying mean a bad grade or even worse send the message to her that I don't care? Every day I have to try to reach a balance between meeting everyone's needs and managing the mundane logistics of running this household.
In this new life, I've had to lower my standards in many areas. Our house isn't as organized and decluttered. The kids' bedtimes are what I would want. We may hit fast food a few too many times during the week. God knows I have a million valid excuses to why this has happened. I've tried to get the tools I need to help me, including therapy and medication, two things I never in a million years thought would be part of my life.
I don't think anymore it's about listing all the things I've done and cutting myself some slack. I don't even think it's about being thankful for what I do have and recognizing the good in our life. I think it comes down to the fact that deep down, despite all the talk therapy and pharmaceuticals, I want more.
I want more for my family. I want to be a better mom, wife, daughter, sister and friend. I've tried to convince myself otherwise.
So I'm starting to question the tools I've tried so far. I'm not making any changes, but I'm starting to get impatient for improvement. That's the heart of the problem. What I want may be physically impossible, but I can't turn off the desire.