Okay, so here I am exhausted AF and being honest. Last week was rough. As a family we had the type of September and October that should be locked in a closet and never let out again. I’m sure you can relate. You know those months where EVERYTHING goes wrong all at the same time? It makes for stressful times. Between my writing schedule, the kids school schedules, co-parenting with an ex, and about fifty wrenches thrown in our way; I went to bed and didn’t get out of it for two days. I couldn’t. I was emotionally drained and psychologically exhausted (lack of self care), and I didn’t want to speak (didn’t want to do anything actually). And so I didn’t. I cried a lot if that counts as something. Avett stayed in bed with me and man that baby gives me joy where I can’t find any. My bed was littered with baby toys and bottles and he was the only person I was okay being with. Sounds dramatic, I know. But, man, I don’t know how to rest. It’s a sickness. People who go non-stop and put everyone else’s needs before their own are susceptible to cracking sometimes. You need someone in your corner to tell you that you’ve been going too hard for too long, and that you desperately need to rest and breathe. I don’t know if you have someone like that in your corner, so I’m going to tell you. You need a YOU break. Okay? Please. Your mental health, your mind, your nurturing of your family hinges largely on your mental health and happiness. No matter what anyone tells you you are entitled to your own space, and you have a right to fight for your own happiness. Being a mother doesn’t mean you cease to exist as an individual. You’re still there, buried under the saggy tits and dry shampoo. Your dreams, and visions, and hobbies still matter even after you expanded your life for a partner and small humans. It doesn’t matter if you’re a mom, if your family is judgmental, if you “should” feel soooooo lucky about your wonderful life. You are a human who sometimes runs out of juice. Your cup dries up because you pour, pour, pour. Refill without guilt, my friends. Carve out some space for the girl who used to have time to wash her hair, and have perky tits. Create, sleep, cry, rest, go to a movie, take a bath, read a book, lock yourself in the bathroom (I do this). I love you and you’re still you.
My sweater (that you asked about) wasn’t supposed to be on the blog. I’ve mentioned before that I shop in the men’s department often, and that’s where I found it. Josh liked it so much he went and bought one for himself (we won’t be wearing them at the same time). But, I linked it for you. I’m seventeen pounds down and I’ve stuffed myself into two pairs of my larger jeans! I’m wearing a men’s small in the photo and it fits perfectly. I normally wear a woman’s Medium.
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