An Eentsy Beentsy Teeny Weenie Tiny Little Crash

[Dutch Lock Down Day Two Hundred Seventy Nine]

They happen more often over the holiday season.

So it’s not a surprise.

But it still… well… sucks.

But first the news:

I forgot to eat. Then I overate. Then I felt like throwing up.

For hours.

So then I went to bed early. With every intention to rise early in the morning.

But then.

Boy twin cried out at four. So we cuddled for a bit. And by the time I got him back in bed, the five a.m. alarm clock could fuck right off. And then the seven a.m. alarm could fuck off, too. And then Papa took care of morning rush hour entirely on his own.

Thanks so much, Papa.

But then I slept until eleven.

The bit I’m rather thankful for, and entirely astonished over, is that THEN I got out of bed. And took a shower. And ate lunch. And responded to messages. And wrapped more presents. And met with my kickass life coach. And wrapped more presents. And realized we have big presents for two of our kids, but not the third. And panic’d a bit. And talked it out with P. And cooked. And ate a bit. And wrapped more presents. And watched The Crown.

I had a fairly norm, fairly productive rest of the day.

Normally, when I crash, I sleep for entire days and / or stop eating and / or fall into a depression and / or think suicidal thoughts. And this was ‘just’ a few hours of extra sleep.

And then I asked myself, “Self,” I said, “What’s wrong?”

And I listened.

And I took steps to resolve what was wrong.

Things that are no longer wrong.