Moving to a new town and not knowing a soul, I can feel myself teetering dangerously on the edge of a dark cloud. It’s not unlike how I felt almost exactly a year ago when Tom first came along. I feel isolated. My husband is away with work again. Even the TV is the same. I am inexplicably addicted to reality shows such as “I’m a Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here.” Which lets face it, is just bad television. I also had this ridiculous idea that this was a good time to quit sugar?
I am not making good choices.
I miss my friends, I miss my house, I miss my husband. And here I don’t have the same support system close by that I did the last time I was… on the edge of a dark cloud. When Tom first came along, I had to force myself out of the house each day so that I didn’t go crazy. Much harder to do here when there’s no one to go and see. But as I recognise the signs, I can start taking preventative measures. One of my particular talents (when I feel so inclined) is something I like to call “Silver Linings Thinking.” It’s when I try and change my mindset to reframe things more optimistically. I realise this may come as a surprise to people, it’s really kind of a choice thing. I can think positively when I want to, however being a sarcastic bitch comes so much more naturally and is therefore my default setting. But that isn’t working for me this week, so this is my effort at consciously trying to put a positive spin on all the things that have made it a fucking nightmare:
Thank you Thomas, for deciding at 2am that you love me so much that you’ll cry and scream and flap your hands until you can give me one of your tight, neck-crushing hugs while rubbing your tear-soaked cheeks into my face. Even though I saw you just 40 minutes previously when I fed you for umpteenth time; it is so wonderful to be loved.
When I took you back to my bed in defeat, thank you for deciding that this would be an appropriate time to showcase your talents, including blowing raspberries on my chest, clapping your hands and pointing to Otis while repeating the word “dog.” I am so pleased you can talk now, what an epic milestone in your development.
Thank you for the next hour of stroking my face and hair. I know that when you pull it and shove it into your mouth that it’s a display of your feelings for me and I realise how lucky I am that someone loves me so much that he wants to literally consume me. Attempting to stroke my eyelashes was a nice touch and I know you didn’t mean it when you almost gouged my eyes out – multiple times. You’re just enthusiastic. An admirable trait.
I also admire your tenacity and determination. This will undoubtedly serve you well as an adult. You stand up for what you want. Even when it is clearly a detriment to your health and mine. Sometimes it’s okay to give in though. Like when you body slam me and smash your head into mine out of pure exhaustion? Then would be a good time to maybe just fall asleep. I see that you do sometimes try to get comfortable, but I disturb you because I quite like being able to breathe and your head on my neck kind of crushes my windpipe. Sorry about that. Next time lets work together on this and just have you sleep in your cot, yeah?
Even in my sleep deprived and albeit pissed off state, it still amuses me that when I try singing you to sleep, you start to wriggle and dance and nod your head along to the tune. So rhythmic & entertaining. So fucking annoying… I mean delightful.
STOP. We might be here awhile if I do the whole week. The above was literally just a couple of hours into day 1. Though actually, repeat the above another 6 times and that is about as good as my week has gotten.
My point is this week Tom has dropped toast, his toothbrush and Otis’s tennis ball into the toilet, always from a height and with just the right amount of dramatic flair; which is an incredibly jerk-like and calculated move. It would be easy to be frustrated and pissed off, but that just feeds the dark cloud. So I try to make myself feel better by turning it into a positive. And the only positive I can get from this is…
Fucking nothing. I was completely exasperated by his apparent preoccupation with the toilet bowl. Sometimes kids just really piss you off and no amount of “Silver Linings Thinking” will make it better. He has spent this week angrily shouting at me after I pick him up from daycare as if to say “How could you leave me there all day long?” (quite easily, my friend), screaming – and I mean SCREAMING whenever he isn’t being physically held and refusing to eat any food, instead donating it to the floor, his hair and Otis. Who is fast becoming morbidly obese. Sometimes things are just shit.
This is why my default setting is sarcasm with a degree in Resting Bitch Face. “Silver Linings Thinking” really only applies when I’m thinking about situations that don’t involve me, like “Oh I’m sorry your husband woke the baby with the lawnmower, at least your garden looks nice?” Which in my house is an unforgivable offence.
But rather than let these things get to me and continue the spiral downwards, I refuse to be consumed. Which is fucking hard work. But I won’t be lonely forever. 3 years ago Townsville felt like an abominable wasteland and now it feels like a second home. I’m sure Singleton will prove it’s worth as time goes on. We will meet some people and make some friends. In the meantime when positive thinking doesn’t work, go spend an exorbitant amount of money getting your hair done to make yourself feel better. Totally worth it.