This week has sucked.

Pain.

Restriction in mobility.

Kid who’s acting up.

Change over to summer time so sleep is out of whack.

Pain meds making my brain addled, so I’ve not been able to study effectively for an exam I have in about 24 hours.  Economics is just plain not computing.

Frustration I can’t stand long enough to be able to get the house cleaned properly (though glad I spent money on a robo-vac).

Being forced to slow down long enough that I’m conscious of how lonely I am.

I’m generally ok with being alone.  It’s the loneliness that I’m struggling with.

Friends busy with their own lives, in their own relationships.  

Able to flop on the couch once the kids are in bed and talk about their day with another adult.

Celebrate successes, complain about office politics.

I miss having Ian to talk to.   To collapse against at the end of a long day.

I needed someone to talk it through with.  Someone who got it. So I put a call out to a re-married widow from our church community, a lady who lost her first husband 20 or so years ago.  We spent a couple of hours talking over the loneliness, the struggles of solo-parenting, the isolation of widowhood and that parenting a pre-schooler can bring independently, let alone together.

By the time she headed home, I felt much more balanced, grounded and lighter than I had for most of the week.

Sometimes that one on one chat so you don’t feel so alone in your experience is just that bit of self care the doctor ordered.