I thought today was going to be different.
Technically, it wasn’t like yesterday. It was my official first day of telework. I never left my house. Never even took a shower. Grabbed my favorite yoga pants, a t-shirt, and a comfy sweatshirt, along with my favorite pair of socks. Was so grateful for the warmth of my house, the dryness too. Yesterday, I was so wet and cold all day after having my feet soaked during my two hour commute. Today, I didn’t need to worry about that.
I had big plans. In between reading and writing I was going to sip tea, put on dinner. At lunch time I was going to stretch and do yoga. I was going to drink plenty of water. I was going to delve into my Bible and do some serious praying while I enjoyed my clean living room and Christmas lights.
None of that happened.
I forgot the babysitter had the day off so my husband had to stay at home with my toddler, because “telework is not an alternative to child care.” That made the energy different than I expected. There wasn’t the calm and quiet I wanted/needed. It wasn’t overly crazy, but just not quiet. Not just me with my thoughts and my plans. I’m an introvert, and I’ve been missing total quiet time.
At lunch time, instead of yoga — because I didn’t have the space in my bedroom, where I was holed up — I decided to wrap presents (even though I promised myself I wouldn’t). Got through a bunch of them (Thomas the Train set!), and then was time for the biggest things — two ripstiks. I wanted to wrap them because they are really special for a reason I won’t go into here, except to say they are an act of love. I struggled a bit to get them out of the closet and then it happened. The tweak.
My back felt like I’d been tased. (Not that I know how that feels, but I can imagine.)
I spent the rest of the day crawling, then stooping, then finally standing and wincing by the time the rest of the crew came home. I thought picking up some knitting would be relaxing — until I remembered that knitting hurts my fingers and requires a lot of concentration and that makes it inherently not relaxing. I had planned to go to a church support group for those struggling with mental illness, but I can’t drive, the pain is so bad.
Two double sighs (four of them). Teleworking was supposed to help me get out of this depression. One day last week I woke up feeling like I’d been beat with bricks, and it was that day that I knew I had to make a work change.
Today didn’t feel different than that day. And I so expected it to. Instead, I’m back to dreading having to leave my house tomorrow. (I telework two days a week.) I’m back to teariness. I’m back to wondering about how I’m going to do it instead of feeling hopeful about when I overcome this. The restlessness has found its place back in my chest.
I know it’s a mistake to judge how this is all going to work out based on one day. I know this is how depression lies to us, makes us think that a not-so-great-day means a not-so-great-life. I know that’s not true. I know.
But I’m so tired. Mentally, physically, spiritually. I’m just tired. This is not an I’m-giving-up post, so please don’t worry. It’s more of an “I don’t know how I’m going to make it” post. You can worry about that for me if you’d like.