I had an appointment last week with my midwife, who is also an acupuncturist and herbalist and all sorts of amazing "ist"s. She stuck a bunch of needles in me, sent me home with some foul tasting Chinese herbs and a mongo list of supplements she wants me to take, mostly so I can stop acting like a crazy lady. You should see my bathroom counter now, it's a SEA of bottles and little pill cases so I can keep track of all the doses and times. I'm feeling intimately familiar with my grandparents daily lives.
Last week happened to be the one week out of the month where I don't think evil thoughts about very nice people or where I don't want to crawl under the covers and sleep for days at a time, so it was hard to tell if any of this was working. This morning, the evil kicked in and I spent about an hour yelling at people. Mark offered to take Lily to school and I took a couple deep breaths, realizing that we would have to be playing with dose for a while, just as suspected.
Then I had a thought: If I couldn't make order out of my own mind, I could at least find some order at my desk. Thank goodness for internet television. After three episodes of Chuck, I was looking at a gloriously ordered space and feeling infinitely more zen. Thankfully, Anya spent that time playing quietly with a stack of sticks and a ball of twine, reading books to herself and then following me around while she touched her hand to the small of my back. It always surprises me how aware she is of what I need.
But here's the really cool thing: a month ago I would have gotten all ragey and still watched Chuck, yet unable to even consider the thought of a task so big as the horror that my desk had become. I would have spent the rest of the morning trying to get Anya to leave me alone, and she wouldn't have stepped off for a moment. Just last month, this would have been a very bad day.
I might not get everything done today that I want to accomplish, but I'm doing more than I did a month ago. It's a tiny step, but dammit, it's mine.