Who came up with the concept of “rock bottom” anyway? And why does everyone want to suggest that someone might be there and that this is a good thing because there’s only one way to go. As in UP.
Up? Really?
Wanting to down a bottle of sedatives, something serious and quite out of character – regardless of whether you expect it will kill you or just knock you out for a while – would seem like rock bottom, no?
No. Apparently that’s not rock bottom.
Then you start to think that you really can’t do this – that as much as you love your child and would choose to stay married to your husband, you can’t do this. Can’t be here. Can’t be a mom and it really was a mistake.
That seemed like rock bottom, but the rocks were loose and they slipped again.
When someone offers to take your son so you can both have a break, you’d think that would be a good thing, right? The break is good, up until the hour or so before he’s due to come home, anyway. Then the major anxiety attack hits and those rocks at the bottom feel a little bigger, a little closer.
I’m off work, and need to be. Work isn’t the problem, and yet when I drove past my office the other night after everyone would have gone home, I had a major panic attack. Explain that, please.
Maybe rock bottom is being off work, which I need to be, but feeling like I can’t be at home either. Maybe it’s feeling like I don’t know who I am and don’t know where I’m supposed to be and seeing no clear path toward the answer for either.
I’ve collected rocks all my life – it’s a genetic thing – but right now what I’ve got is a pile of crap. I sincerely hope the current state of things is rock bottom, because I’m a little sick of bouncing.
This rant was brought to you by an over-active toddler and a state of limbo, the suspected cause of which is medication that’s not doing its job. Back to regularly-scheduled (slightly less buzz-killing) posting tomorrow.
