Tonight should be a perfect example of a beautiful summer night in Chicago. It's in the mid 70's, we have all doors and windows open so there is a soft breeze blowing through the house. The kids have been fed, both a healthy dinner and then chocolate dipped ice-cream cones from McDonalds. They are now in the backyard, running and screaming, burning off extra energy and sugar in the hopes that they will sleep past 7AM tomorrow. J has made himself comfortable with our dog, Mia, on the back porch and has been pretty silent, except for the occasionally need to tell L to not be so bossy or remind Little A that they have to share toys in the sandbox. It should be a beautiful night.
I am sitting at our oversized kitchen table, a round, 8 person table with a lazy-susan in the middle. It sits on my freshly washed white tiled floor, surrounded by stucco and deep yellow walls. The almost-white counters are as clean as they will ever be, littered with library books that are due back tomorrow, various Rescue Bots that Little A got for his birthday party yesterday, and a pan of leftover purple cupcakes. While there is a stack of dishes to be done, looking at them reminds me that we just had a family dinner, something that is rare during the busy summer months, especially since I have been working until 7PM lately. I should be content. I should be happy.
Yesterday we had what I should consider a very successful birthday party for the kids. Since L, Big A, and Little A's birthdays are all within a month of each other we simply have one giant party. We rent out a local pool, invite all of their friends and families, order several dozen pizzas and just let them loose. We had about 60 people in attendance last night, something I was happy with considering the weather in Chicago went from being in the upper 80's to a very chilly 68 last night. Of course, little kids don't give two thoughts to cold weather; they were to anxious to jump in the pool and go down the two story tall waterslide! The parents sat bundled in coats and watched their children turn from adorable little kids to blue-lipped monsters. I should be thankful.
But I am not.
Tonight depression is rearing its ugly head.
Tonight I am not a good mother, I am a slacker who is doing whatever she can to avoid contact with her children.
Tonight I am a bad wife because dinner was a simple set of leftovers, both pasta from the other night and pizza from last night. Not that anyone complained, but I should have done better for a Sunday night dinner.
Tonight I don't like myself. I can feel every pound on my body and I wish I could literally take a pair of scissors and cut off unwanted pieces.
Tonight I want to crawl into a ball in my bed, pull the blanket up over my head, and just shut out the world.
Tonight I think thoughts that are too overwhelming and triggering to put into words. I think thoughts that would end this depression.
Tonight I worry that this past week of somewhat contentment is breaking way for a week of going downhill. I worry, as I always do, that I will not survive another round of deep depression and anxiety.
Tonight I will shut everything out as soon as the kids go to bed (T-minus 15 minutes), watch a few episodes of ArmyWives on Netflix, and just breath.
Tomorrow, well, I know that if I can make it to tomorrow I will have survived tonight. And for now that's all I can do.
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