I'm pretty sure yesterday was one of those days sent from the devil to test me. I woke up later than planned as I'd been at a friends house the night before having a whale of a time at her PJ cheese and wine night (as most sophisticated ladies do). It was about mid day and waking up at that time on a Saturday makes me feel super unproductive as I'm usually half way through my first tutoring session by then so that was the 'get out of the wrong side of the bed moment for me'.
I then proceeded to have a look in my fridge, I didn't even want anything, there was a bag inside that I had noticed and ignored for the past few days thinking it belonged to my daughter. What prompted me to look in it I have no idea, but I wish I hadn't. What I found inside it was a 6 pack of 'K' I was so triggered that I immediately started crying.
It didn't belong to my daughter, thankfully, one of her friends that had come to celebrate new years at ours had left it there. I wasn't angry at them, they were not to know that a couple of cans of K could bring a grown woman to tears. They were not to know that each Christmas is a reminder of doing this parenting thing alone, each new year means another new year without my Scott Disick equivalent. I lucked out with my choice for who fathered my first child in so many ways; we were young, we loved each other, we were dedicated to our families and no matter what, together or not, we had made the decision that we would always work together to parent our child. Unfortunately, in this life, ALWAYS is temporary.
The amount of times yesterday I was asked if I was alright and chose, "Yes, I'm just tired." can't be counted on one hand. I often tell myself that I'm just tired but in reality that's code for I want to give up, I want to feel normal again, I want to take a moment out from being positive and just be. Thankfully this isn't my daily narrative but it's part of my narrative all the same. Last year saw more loss of loved ones which is a constant reminder that this life is temporal, hence I value my salvation more than anything. That still doesn't stop the pain of loss. When my counsellor asked me over the phone if I'd had any recent trauma I said no, the fact is, I've had so much trauma in my life that I don't even class it as trauma anymore.
This post is not a cry for help, most people who know me know that I never ask for help, I just get on with it. This post is just a release. It's the best way I know how. Perhaps the only way. So indulge me a little.