Last week in Norfolk was wonderful. It was our first ever family holiday that didn’t involve other members of our families and was just the four of us spending lots of time together doing things we enjoy. It was so much fun. The cottage that we stayed in was perfect, cosy and had all the nice touches that make you feel at home. There was a delicatessen next door with yummy treats and we ate out most lunchtimes so there was very little cooking involved.
I loved it there in our little bubble. I felt pretty much consistently happy for the whole six days that we were there. I kept trying to explain to Mr C what this funny feeling I had in my stomach was and then suddenly it dawned on me, it was happiness and excitement. How sad that I didn’t recognise it in the beginning and how wonderful that it was there.
We walked and talked and played. We ate lovely food and drank endless mugs of tea. We had just the right amount of stuff that we needed and it was easy to keep organised and everything tidy. The four poster bed was comfortable and had bedding on it that made me feel like I was snuggling up in a cloud. We laughed and joked and taught Kate to sit up.
We spent lots of time by the sea and taught I taught Piran how to make a proper sandcastle and how you must tap it three times for luck after turning it over. We took loads of lovely pictures and the sun shone and shone. We had one solitary rain shower the whole week and we were in the car and got to see a rainbow. We were sad to come home but we felt rested and relaxed.
Twenty one hours and 14 minutes after we walked back through our front door I felt terrible. Everyone has the inevitable come down after such a lovely week away but being back in our house where I can see every little thing that I want or need to do makes me so very, very anxious. I cannot breathe because the house is too full of stuff. We have more than we need, and more than we have space for and it makes me feel so on edge. I hadn’t realised what a dramatic effect it had on my mood.
I had three very dark days this weekend where the gut wrenching, heart breaking heavy soul feeling ruined everything I did. I felt a little brighter on Sunday afternoon when we went to a birthday party for one of Piran’s friends and we were out and having fun and Piran gets so excited over things it is wonderful. But the rest of the weekend was so very hard.
I want this to be over now. I want to be ‘better’. I want to be able to relax and enjoy myself. I want to be the fun mum from on holiday, not the shouty, frustrated, upset one that I have become. Every time I feel like I am crawling out of this hole I seem to fall right back in, and then climbing out becomes harder because I am so very very tired all the time. I know that this shall pass but I feel like I have suffered enough now. I wish there was a magic potion but there is not.
But I will continue to try. Small things brighten my life and give me hope. Piran doesn’t stop talking and now we are having conversations with him and it is amazing. He loves his sister so much and is always cuddling her. Kate is still unpredictable but every day I read her a little better. She has a killer smile and a wonderful giggle. I have lost 12lbs in 6 weeks and really want to keep going. I fit into a pair of size 14 jeans this week. It might be shallow but it made me smile.
And so onwards I go. Letting myself have bad days, but ensuring that the good days do not go past unnoticed. Trying to fit into my days a little bit of decluttering as well as time to spend doing things I love. I am going to stay positive and moving and hoping that soon those good days will outnumber the bad.