I want to write about how I’m healing because I’m resting. But really, I’ve come to associate laying down, sleeping and taking it easy with the vise of depression. Even though my body craves rest, my mind rebels and pushes me to activity. It tells me to move and exceed my limitations because if I spend too much time in bed, I will be swallowed whole again by it. I will once again go under and sink to the bottom and stay there. I’m terrified that my convalescence will turn into a major low that I won’t be able to escape from. Yes, I am supposed to be up and moving, but I am not supposed to be 100% Amanda as I am trying to be. I think I can do more than I can, and then I suffer the consequences. And they are serious. I don’t need scolding, and know what I’m doing wrong. I just need understanding that I’m not doing this because out of spite or ignorance. I’m doing it out of sheer panic that my mind will be broken one my body is fixed.
I’ve taken the plunge and decided to volunteer at my daughter’s school this coming Friday. They’re throwing a fair and I signed up to make cupcakes AND take tickets for the pony rides. I figured if I was going to be so out of my element, I may as well allow myself to be surrounded by ponies. It’s such a small thing, but for me, it’s momentous. Not only will I be in a crowd of adults I don’t know, I will also be hedged in by KIDS. Not only that, but I will have to interact with them.
It’s not that I don’t like kids, (I kind of don’t like kids, actually, they are so weird) I just have a hard time talking to anyone who won’t listen to reason. How do you tell a seven year old that no, she can’t actually eat an entire pack of peach cobbler flavored gum and have them see the clarity in that? To be fair, though, a lot of adults I encounter don’t abide by common sense either, so, maybe it won’t be too bad after all. Either way, it will be a new experience for me, and I can’t say I’m exactly looking forward to it, but the thought of it isn’t sending me into convulsions, either.