Sometimes I feel guilty that I love being at home – I feel like I should get out and about more. But over the last year I have become more and more of a homebody. Home is a place of comfort and security. And we all love it.
Today we returned home from our weekend away. We left a little earlier than planned as Boo was poorly but we were all glad to get going. Not because we weren’t having a wonderful time, but because home is our safe place where we can show the ugly truth of how we feel without worrying about how it is affecting others.
When you have a burden of grief, anxiety and depression weighing heavily on your mind, it becomes very difficult to keep up appearances. I am all too aware that I either don’t talk at all, or talk about myself when we are out. I don’t have the strength to put on a smile and join in conversation. I do try but I find it so exhausting – partly because I am always tense from trying to force the smile, hold back the tears and brace myself for a comment that will accidentally sting. Also, as my brain is so full of muddled thoughts, I find listening to conversation hard as my mind, like a hyperactive toddler, needs to be constantly refocused onto the task at hand. Often I will realise that it is my time to speak but I have been busy rolling the babies names over in my mouth instead of listening. Awkward.
So after 2 days of wonderful times, plenty of oversharing, good food, company and wine we made our way home. Boo was tucked up in the back of her car still in her pjs. The rain came down in sheets (so jealous of all you in the snow today!) as we made our slow journey to home. For 90 minutes I sat with tears streaming down my face. Sometimes silently. Sometimes with heaving sobs. But I cried and cried. M understood. 48 hours worth of tears needed to be released. I couldn’t hold them back any longer and was so relieved to finally let out the flood of tears that I had barely kept at bay. As I cried, the tension slipped away and the deep sadness ebbed out to a more bearable level. By the time we were home, I was ready to stop crying.
Once home, we had the most lovely afternoon watching Christmas movies and buying Christmas food and presents online. Boo slept in my arms as she battled a fever. The tree lights flickered. Christmas scents filled by air.
For the the second time this weekend I was genuinely happy. Again, it was while the weight of my daughter filled my arms. But this time, it was also the wonderful contented feeling of being at home. At home with my family.