So I went to see my counsellor the other day and she mentioned she was concerned about me potentially, gradually going towards depression.
To hear it from someone, I know whom would not use that lightly with me.
I know. I know. Those of you who know me, know that I am a smiler. A laugher. But some nights, I can do 3 hours of Gilmore Girls in a row. Most nights. Then I got to Season 7 and thank god it was over. And Luke finally kissed her. But still. And after that, I was insatiably hungry. All the time.
And I realised.
I need to pass the time.
I do different things to pass the time.
I don’t want to LIVE in the time.
How damn scary is that?
Because I feel like I have stolen moments of time.
Little windows that are mine. Not V’s. Not Aru’s. Not works. Not family’s.
And those moments sometimes feel so few and far inbetween.
BECAUSE I CHOOSE.
NOT TO PRIORITISE ME.
And I’m the person who harps on about it. Clearly not doing it enough.
She said she’s been keeping an eye on me since Aru was born.
And I realise, sometimes, having a child feels like the greatest compromise. Of just so many moments. I didn’t even realise, but a big part of me can’t wait till he’s 5, so he can go to school. ALL WEEK. 5 DAYS A WEEK! WAHOOO!!!
I know that daycare is an option now, but it’s not mentally working out for me to take that option.
And I’m hoping like hell I’ll unravel.
I’m hoping the new line of work I’m taking lifts me.
But more than anything.
I hope I listen to my insides.
When they are asking to be heard.