this woman’s work

I’m fighting a low-grade depression with bouts of full-fledged anxiety and have been for the past few weeks. Some days are better than others and some evenings are downright swell. But this is an afternoon of mumbling melancholy. This makes it hard to write.

Of course I haven’t been writing much of anything lately unless you count blog posts and client communications (I don’t count them) and this has a lot to do with my bad mood. The new (to me) elliptical trainer helps. Thursday night potlucks help. Kids in general help (except when they’re hanging on me when I’m trying to read or pounding on the bathroom door while I’m trying to take a bath or fighting with each other when I’m on the elliptical trainer and I have to take my iPod earbuds out and scream back at them as best as I can considering I’m a little out of breath and all). But except for those times, the kids are a bright spot to the day. Same goes for their father — generally bright spot — although he also has his moments. (Don’t we all.)

I must be having my midlife crisis because I spend a lot of time thinking about the things I should have done and the things I wish I’d done and the things I better have left undone. This is coinciding with similar feelings from Brett so sometimes in the evening — now that we gave up cable — we play regret roulette; basically spinning our wheels and mourning our choices. 

It would be nice to get through this personal growth time, (which is how I tend to think of these downward spirals) and get onto the next phase of living my life. But I’m waiting for some things to resolve and a bunch of those things are out of my control. So I’m waiting. Fidgeting. Feeling sad and scuffling around the house.

Lemme tell you, the state of politics isn’t helping any. 

I’m feeling very woe is me.

My dad: I mentioned yesterday that my dad gave me a pep talk, which was just what I needed. My dad is a financial planner (here’s his linkedin) and he cut his teeth as a door-to-door insurance salesman. He knows from hustling and working on commission and not letting the bad days stop you cold. He knows a lot about marketing and networking and all the things I’m trying to learn. A pep talk from him includes stellar advice and encouragement.

(As some of my longertime readers know, my dad and I have had our issues. One of the latent consequences of Brett losing his job and me going out on my own this past year and a half has been to help me build a positive, nurturing and loving relationship with him. Thanks corporate lay-offs!)

My mom: I can always count on my mom to boost me up and cheer me on. She’s my biggest fan. Just knowing I can call her anytime is enough to make me not need to call her, you know? Unconditional love that I can take for granted — well, I know that’s made me the woman/mother/writer I am. PLUS! She has this fantastic elliptical machine that’s gym-quality that I’ve been nagging her to loan me for years. (She used to use it a lot but doesn’t so much these days.) I nag her out of habit now because she always rolls her eyes at me. But guess what! You guessed it! She’s loaning it to me ’til she retires (a couple years away) and that means: ENDORPHINS! Yes, my friends, a steady workout is in my future! Our own elliptical trainer is getting noisier and lumpier every time I use it, which precludes using it. Can’t get on when the kids are occupied watching tv because it’s too loud for them to hear the television. Can’t do it while they’re sleeping in the morning or after they’re in bed because it’s loud enough to wake them up (it’s just below their rooms). I get it this Sunday and I am already full of joy just thinking of it!

Brett’s parents: They’ve offered to take the kids whenever I need it and whenever their schedules allow (they’re very busy retirees). I hate to ask because I’m like that but today they called and asked — asked! — to take the kids fishing. As if I’d refuse. This is incredibly fortunate because I have a lot of work and the kids are driving each other nuts so I can’t leave them to kinda play together since I’m breaking up a lot of fights that go like this, “You’re a potato.” “Mommy! Noah called me a potato!” “Rudikins tattletale!” “Mommy! Noah called me a rudikins tattletale!” Then poking/tickling ensues or the dreaded looking in each other’s direction without being invited to look. “He’s looking at me!” “What — I can look!” “AHHH!” “Rudikines potato!” “Mommy!” etc etc etc. Clearly not a day for work.

And this is why the grandparents are at the top of “my god, you are awesome people” list. This is why we’re in Ohio and not in the beautiful Pacific Northwest!!

I haven’t worked out in a long time — my lung capacity, rather on the large size and bad attitude will attest to that. I was remembering that the last time I was in killer shape (for me — my killer shape looks different than I once hoped in my blasted teen years) started when Noah was about four. Four seems to be when I quit thinking of my kids as babies and start thinking of them as kids. 3-year olds still look awfully small and vulnerable and needy and parent-centric to me.

Anyway! I’m going to go back on the squeaky, thumping, broken elliptical trainer. If I keep waiting for the perfect situation to get fit I’ll never find it so the squeaky, thumping, broken elliptical trainer it will be. At least I have one (that’s what I tell myself). So I did that while Madison performed feats of greatness on her mini-trampoline. (Just for kicks, I’m going to upload a picture of her getting xmas morning when she was one going on two. She was cute and fuzzy!)

Remember when I got up to an hour on the trainer? Yeah. Well. Twenty minutes this time around folks. I must have patience!

Wow — endorphins are AWESOME!