We have a salary and employee sponsored health insurance. We don’t need to get a 2nd car pronto as annoying as metro in winter can be it’s still a perfectly doable option (that many families deal with and only have one car). The heater is working in the house, we have a meeting with our pastor next week and one with our financial advisor in a couple of weeks once we’ve settled into the salary.

The physical weight of being overwhelmed has lifted I kid you not. It’s amazing. I’m still exhausted, but that constant bearing down of doom is gone.

Yet I don’t feel ¬†happy.

Is it the depression? Probably somewhat. I think too that it is the realization that all these issues in our marriage that I’d been putting off “till we’re in a better place” can’t be put off any longer. We have Things To Talk About that I can’t bring up because it causes a fight every time and then when I lose it in front of our pastor I’m accused of just steam rolling him. I don’t feel like it’s a safe place to talk unless there’s a witness, then I know I will be Heard.

Or maybe it’s just chemical. I had pretty bad postpartum depression due to hubs job loss and me needing to go work in my office when my baby was 9 weeks old. That was an awful 4.5 months of my life and I don’t remember a lot of it. I do remember when he got a job, and I was able to take a pay cut to do the same thing but from home, thinking how everything was working out and yet I was not Happy. That’s when I started meds. I wonder if my body has been supplementing itself with cortisol and adrenaline for so long that my already crappy ability to produce serotonin was affected. I need to get back to therapy but at $300/pop I’m not so sure. We’ll see if the new health insurance covers 60/40 or something. I’m not holding my breath.

But life goes on. I hate that I think I’d be a better mom and a better person if my husband wasn’t a part of my every day life. I have absolutely no idea how we’d get on (me and the girls that is) financially without moving in with my parents, but the fact that I even think about it must mean something. Still, we move on. Maybe someone I know will win the powerball and gift me my freedom. Ha.

When you just want your spouse to respect your need to work, even though your work is something that is done at home on the computer (photo editing and freelance writing and graphic design). Why is that so hard? If he was the one bringing home the bacon that paid all our bills, padded our savings and retirement and allowed for the odd vacation now and again, I’d be cool letting him veg all day on this rainy Saturday. But on the flip side, he works his office job (The one we hope becomes perm in FY2016 which starts in a few weeks…), then goes and works on this shed he’s been building for a friend the past 3 months. He’s pooped, I get it. I however play single parent during the week (even when we see him home on a weekday it’s usually after dinner and the girls say hi, he changes into grubbies and takes the car to go work on the shed – leaving me to deal with bedtimes entirely alone, again). I’m pooped by the weekend too but cherish the fact that I could get serious work done for multiple hours in one go. Sadly that never happens. I suppose it seems only logical that I could very well go get a job at costco and work weekends, thus forcing him into the role of house-husband and caregiver for the children two days a week. But I don’t. I just want a few hours of time with out the interruption of children and also without the children being babysat by screens (because lets face it, that’s how I manage to get dinner on the table every day during the witching hour). I also like the fact that on a saturday I can work during the DAY, instead of sitting down at 9:30pm to get going.

But I’m supposed to use this place to stay positive so in that vein, Hooray for the rain, we really needed it. Hooray for a roof with no holes in it (although boo to the gutters that obviously need to be cleaned). Hooray for the freelance job that is sort of a trial for a bigger project to come. Hooray for fall photoshoot season. Hooray for the brown rice and beans in the crockpot simmering away till dinner time (and boo to the children who won’t eat it but Hooray for the 9 year old who can fix them mac and cheese). Hooray for church tomorrow and dinner with inlaws (which means being sent home with leftovers). Hooray for groceries and school clothes and new backpacks paid for by others. Hooray for mortgage loan readjustment. Hooray for access to social services. Hooray for lorazepam.