The prettiest flowers come from little boys that call you "Mama."
When I arrived Monday, I took my usual survey...
And my score was 11.
Not even in the "depression" zone.
Just the "mild mood disturbance" zone.
I'm sorry, what?!
What I'm combating the most against is "re-training" my brain to accept good as good.
Wins as wins.
Because old Lauren quickly thinks,
"You scored so well only because you had a weekend away from the kids and life."
"Of course you feel fine now, you had a getaway weekend!"
"Just look at the rest of the week, you'll see."
Because it HAS been a rough week.
Brandon had the flu last week/turned sinus infection over the weekend/turned bronchitis.
So, I've had a lot more on my plate.
Unfortunately, that shuts me down.
I go into survival mode.
I get the kids dressed, fed, from point A to B to C, etc.
This week, I heard a quote that stopped me in my tracks.
"Are you having a bad day or did you have a bad 5 minutes that you've been milking all day?"
People have bad days.
Normal people have bad days.
That doesn't mean I've failed, or the TMS isn't working, or I'm not normal.
There's guilt that I've undone every amazing thing I learned at our weekend retreat.
(Which was absolutely amazing.)
But, even though I haven't been jumping around with joy every second of every day...
I haven't spiraled.
That's a major difference.
I had lunch with a bestie this week and I asked her if she noticed a difference...
To which she emphatically responded, "YES."
I'm choosing to believe my friend.
I'm choosing to believe my Husband.
I'm choosing to believe the scores.
I'm choosing to believe that God is healing me.
(Due to a bad weather day and having to miss an appointment this week, I go M-F again next week.
Then 3x week 8.
And 1x week 9.)