I'm so tired. I keep "hitting the wall" by about 4 pm and I'm ready for bed. I don't feel like cooking or cleaning or making lunches. I'm not interested in reading, or in watching whats on TV. I just want that really large goblet full of Merlot, my flannel sheets and my feather pillows, and the peace of my bedroom. It's not depression really, it's just me in my dark place. I need this dark place I'm in right now.
I came out of the dark briefly when we had the emergency foster placement - somehow caring for helpless scared babies can pull me out of ANY quagmire of despair regardless of the depth - but then again I was glad when Monday rolled around and they left. (for inquiring minds? they are being placed with their bio father...a good move) I missed wallowing in the dark a little.
I was happy enough to go to see a postpartum client and help her, but it was awful that I actually cried with her a little when she was crying. Not... professional.
I was happy enough to go out with a friend, but equally happy to get home and put on my slippers and sit in front of the computer. I missed my "dark".
It's dark dark dark right now. I know the light is out there, I know I could sort of force myself to reach for it, but... I can't see why I need to. It's rather comfortable and safe here in the dark right now. Is this self-pity?
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