I took a day off today. I struggle with anxiety on the best days and, for the most part, I think I do pretty well. This past week pushed me past my limit. I was on the verge of tears for days. I went for a run last week and was crying when I started and felt lighter, happier, the further I got away from my house. When I rounded the corner to go back up my street, I started to cry again. There was no one home, but getting back to our house was too much for me. So I sat on the corner and cried. I decided I needed a day for me. And Curtis doesn’t understand. I know it hurts him to know I need time for myself. Real parents don’t get time off. He doesn’t get it to the point where he asked me to make him lunch so he can come eat with me. It’s lovely that he chose to come home and spend lunch with me, and I started crying because all I want is for one day to not be beholden to anyone. I even took off my Fitbit to not have to worry about steps. I just want to be alone, on my own time, on my own terms for a few hours. And he admitted he wasn’t sure if he should, and I thanked him for wanting to spend it with me. But I really wanted to just be me. No one’s partner, no one’s parent… just me.
I was in such a state, I was going to skip Reegan’s hockey practice. I was actively planning to not be home when he came to get Reegan’s hockey gear. I wanted to be alone. I’m not sure if it was from watching too many episodes of This Is Us, or if it was the exercise I did, or if choosing to miss Reegan’s practice was a step too far for me, but I strapped on my Fitbit and running shoes and chose to walk to the arena instead of missing out. I walked home, too. And stopped to enjoy the view. And I feel a bit better, not all better, but ready to face this week’s hurdles. And I will take that small victory.