It's been a while. That's what having a more personable less potato-ey infant yields! But I've thought about writing almost every day. It just...is what it is.
The morning of my first day at inpatient psych (take two). It's early, and I'm feeling okay. Tired, of course, but when has that eve been different?
I was hoping for more from yesterday, I think, so I still have kind of a disappointment hangover from that. I arranged a date, but the morning of S realized that he couldn't go on it because of his tattoo since it was exclusively hot tub/cold plunge/sauna/steam room based. I asked if he wanted to grab a bite together or, you know, shag, since I already had childcare lined up. But he declined. I went by myself, which was nice and relaxing and I could see doing it once a month since it's included in my membership!
The kids and I volunteered (well; they were voluntold, I guess) for a local organization at a local market thing yesterday. S ended up coming (later) to help with things and brought me coffee which I greatly appreciated. Coffee is my love language.
Things were just...off yesterday. I felt disconnected and like every bid for love/attention was shut down. This isn't the worst thing in the world. And there were lots of good things: like S seeming to step up and execute more household duties last night like tidying a bit, doing dishes, and sweeping without fuss. I think I'm just a bit attuned to signs of disconnect and recognizing them feels a bit dangerous. And this isn't without reason. And I'm not a particularly paranoid person. I guess it's just: something's up, I don't know what, and in the meantime I feel like my attempts to work on/maintain the relationship are either not landing or being shit all over, depending on how you view it.
Also: I'm not being the best mum in the world (being snappish, mostly) and I feel guilty about that. *sigh* Journaling is supposed to help, right? So let's get back to it.
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