I keep opening my blog to share a bit of my life with you. Day after day I open it.
No words appear, either in my head or on the paper.
The girls and I are almost done with our study on Pandas. I am hoping to have that finished up today.
Then it is on to the human body. I gave Caitlyn a skeleton for Christmas that has squishy organs inside of it, so I think it is high time we use it for school. Okay, so I really bought it for school but put her name on the tag when I wrapped it for Christmas. I have studies on the skeleton, the eyes, the brain, ear, blood, heart, hair and voice. We will be studying the human body for a number of weeks.
I’m sorry, I’ve lost my train of thought again.
Currently, I am editing a piece I previously wrote on my blog for my Listen To Your Mother audition on Saturday. Listen To Your Mother, or LTYM, is a nationwide project with shows in several cities featuring readings by bloggers on some aspect of motherhood; being a mother, having a mother, knowing a mother. Motherhood. I auditioned last year and didn’t make it. I went to the show in our area because a dear friend of mine did make it. As I sat there, I understood why I hadn’t made it. Most of the pieces that were read had a bit of an edge to them and the language was often times a little harsh, whereas I had auditioned with one of those cutsie motherhood pieces. It really did not fit into the show. This year I am delving into the Bipolar. It is a bit of a dark piece. Maybe that will fit better, or maybe this year they will go for the cutsie stuff. Time will tell.
My mind is blank again.
This kept happening yesterday when I was writing my friend in Bangladesh. I have no idea how many times I walked away from that letter to try and gather my thoughts. I feel bad for my friend because I am afraid it makes little sense. At least there is a care package with it.
I think these blanks are coming from the depression. I started to slide back into the pit on Saturday. Things have been rough. Last night the girls had swim lessons and I am so glad hubby could take them. I don’t think I could have forced myself out of the house. I was so desperate to avoid people. I even needed to avoid my family. I went to bed very shortly after they got home. I tried to work on my loom knitting. I wish the judge who will decide my disability could have seen me–sitting in my bed at 8 pm, flinching when my daughter put her head on my shoulder, then curling up in a ball rocking back and forth because I could not remember, for the life of me, how to do my knitting that I have been doing for quite awhile now.
I’m scared of the pit. I haven’t had time to recover from the last depression. Thankfully I have a group of women in my life that get it and will be there when I am screaming and crying that I can’t do this. Going round after round with the Bipolar is beyond wearing.
But here I go, into the pit, to fight another round.