Amazing. Get a good night's sleep, wake up to actual sunshine and a delivery of new furniture, send Sam off to kindergarten, send Steve off to work, call and say I'm working from home...and I'm practically a new woman.
This is easier, in a lot of ways, than it was when Sam was a baby. I'm definitely more mature and better equipped to handle this stress and pressure. So there is a definite letdown when I have those moments where I seemingly can't handle it. Disappointment in myself, I guess you could say.
I commented on someone else's blog that losing a baby doesn't make you Mother Teresa...it would be nice if it did...but it doesn't. I mean, shouldn't we reap some sort of benefit from the crap hand we've been dealt? It only seems fair that burying two babies should have some sort of transformative power to turn me into SuperMom (with a capital S and a capital M). But no such luck. I get to struggle like everyone else...which seems unfair.
The thing is, I'm realizing that my efforts to slow things down have not been entirely successful. As several people noted in my comments on this blog, I'm doing way too much. I had slowed down when we moved into this house and had Sam. It was a lovely laid back country living pace. But then we lost Alex and I needed distraction. And I started. This. That. The other. A seemingly endless parade of commitments. It served its purpose and kept me sane during those dark days when I needed something else for my mind to pay attention to rather than the empty holes left by Alex and Travis.
But now Myles is here and I'm going to have to make a conscious effort to stop (and smell the roses...if you're into cheesy cliches). It's time to stop being distracted and start paying close attention to life's little details. It's time for less stress.
The thing is...I'm terrified. What will happen if I lose the distraction in an effort to lessen the stress? Will the grief and sadness creep back in? If I stop moving, will it be easier for the darkness to find me?
One of my biggest fears through all of this has been depression or other mental illness. My grandmother had some form of mental illness. Though it went undiagnosed for her entire life, we knew something wasn't right when she told us she had tea with Jesus or had invented the Lego. I fear genetic predisposition like I would if alcoholism or cancer were to run through our family blood lines.
People who know me would probably say that even though I went through some really scary stuff, I never totally lost myself...I never totally lost control. Quite honestly, I feel pretty damn proud of the way I've navigated the shitstorm so far. I wonder though, as I stand at this crossroads, if a different direction or a different pace will slow me down too much and allow the genetic predisposition to overtake me and run me off course. I worry that any choices I make now will cause me irreparable mental or emotional harm in the future.
I fear that my efforts to slow myself down and lessen the stress will cause me to lose my mind.