Well, perhaps my bout with the Norovirus in 2015 took me down that low; but that only lasted one night. November was The Month of Endless Coughing and Fatigue, which has been followed by another four months of recovery.
It has been a long, slow journey out of darkness. I was still coughing until a couple of weeks ago, completely tapped out, and unable to handle much stress in a houseful of bouncing, battling boys.
This was made harder by the simultaneous shedding of allowable indoor battle games, played daily in a multitude of formats. My boys have been playing these games for years and years, but the mix of ages from Twelve down to Four, combined with their various temperaments, rendered that impossible this year. Inevitably, the younger two melted into rage and I was left with the fall-out. Indoor battle play is no longer allowed in this house.
By March, I realized that things weren't getting better and I had to batten down the hatches and get serious in order to recover. It just wasn't happening.
My recovery strategy:
- Sleeping more (half-hour earlier to bed, one hour later to rise)
- Two week break from school, focused on rest and connection with my fellas
- Watercolor painting
- Salt baths; to detox, soothe, allow deep rest
- Work with my local holistic practitioner, AKA the "witch doctor"
Just within the last week, I am finally feeling more like myself: energized, optimistic, full of ideas and inspiration.
I tell you, it was a strange place to be these last six months: depleted, uninspired, easily rattled, upset, sad, overwhelmed, dismal, stressed and distressed. I've never been there. And I never want to go back.
Life is good, life is hard.
