Getting out of bed

Up today. My mood, that is. It's up from yesterday, not down, which is a big deal in my world. George and I talked for a long time last night (snipping and snapping at each other until we figured out what the heck the other one was saying--but, importantly, we figured it out), and arranged a couple ways for me to get a break, now and later.

Then we watched a really funny, feel-good movie. By the end of that, my mood felt like it'd been covered over with some kind of painkiller, and I went to bed still feeling a bit off, but better.

I did wake up this morning with a groan and an "ugh...another day...ugh." It was really hard to get myself up, force myself to quickly feed the kids breakfast and get them ready so we could take Daddy to work and have the car for the day. But I knew if I didn't do it, today would be another yesterday, which wasn't great. Actually, I had a moment when it was five minutes before George needed to be in the office and only one kid was dressed. I thought I might cry. George saved the day by running upstairs and getting my socks and shoes while I threw Nora's outfit on her...and he was totally agreeable about being four minutes late. He's such a good sport sometimes.

So by the time we got home from dropping him off at work, I was in a better mood. It also helped that after George shut the car door and we started to drive away, that Nora yelled after him, "Bye Bye, Daddy! I love you! Have a good day! You brushed your teeth!" After this, she turned to me and informed me that she brushed her teeth as well. Then something about a Mommy train and a Baby train, and something about Mommy Train asking Baby Train "are you okay?" to which Baby Train responded, "Yeah! I'm okay!" and so on and so forth. I suspect Mommy and Baby Train went on to great and wonderful adventures.

As will we, today. We went to the library, where I stopped William countless times from leaving the building all by himself. Those automatic-opening doors are baby killers, I'm telling you. Anyway, we got some books on various bugs, which I think will be lots of fun to read this afternoon when they wake up. So, on the agenda for when the kids wake up is: bug book reading, playtime at the college fieldhouse (they have an awe-inspiring track with a squishy floor and more space than my kids could ever use to run themselves into a couple of comas), and Daddy pick-up time.

I love me a good plan. So here's the lesson for today:

None of this would have happened if I hadn't forced myself to do something I didn't feel like doing. That's the thing about depression. It kills all semblance of motivation. It wants to keep you in bed, paralyzed, until another day dawns, and then you still can't move. Today, I made myself move it. I have to learn that this is my fight, at least to some degree, every day. I have to move, even if I can't. Every day. If I let it suck me in, then guilt sets in about what a terrible mother I am for lying in bed so late and making the kids play by themselves, then I can't think of what I'd do with them if I moved, then I feel bad that I can't think of anything, then I'm defeated because I can't think of anything, then I'm annoyed because by now someone's crying and Nora's acting crabby trying to get my attention...

The fight is all in the getting started. That's the good news. Once I get moving, it makes the rest of the day better. It doesn't guarantee a perfect day. What it does do is give the day a chance. When I start it with a downward spiral, it doesn't have Frosty's chance in Florida.

It's good to learn a lesson because I did it right.