Because I just killed one with a handy dirty sandal (not one I was wearing) out on the hot red patio my kids play on in my back yard. See self, you are strong! Mighty! Full of pizzazz!
This act of bravery followed me getting on a ladder to tighten a loose light bulb in the garage door opener feature, and replace the burned out bulb.
Check me out!! I am getting better! Or at least able to face a ladder to do a simple household chore. This may sound silly but I have had a huge fear of going more than two steps up a ladder since I got such raging PTSD, because I often felt like the world's solid nature might be yanked away at any minute and that I would fall down, likely into an abyss, but certainly off the ladder.
I am so much better that I suddenly feel bad about the state of my home and life generally and therefore make myself busy starting to do things. I only finish doing fun things with my kids and the most basic things like appointments, food, clothes for the little ones, but it is better than before. I would like to not feel bad about not suddenly being 100% myself again but instead being somewhere in the 50% range, but with such a huge step up, I'll take it and run.
Don't fear I am off somewhere relapsing, I am really off somewhere with a Swiffer cloth making ineffectual stabs at cleaning things. And pre-treating poopstains in tiny underwear. I really didn't know skidmarks went on this long.
I will be back soon with photos to prove kids with stroke and suicidal parents go hiking . . . and camping . . . and perform in the chorus of the kindergarten play, and have huge birthday celebrations and so on, and so on, and so on.
one cannot spell postpartum without art and tum
5 hours ago