We are flying home today. I’m actually sitting on the plane right now writing this. To be honest, I’m dreading going home. (Not to mention the covid fear induced panic attack in the airport. 😞 )
I’m double masked, obsessively sanitizing and giving a slight evil glare to anyone who even considers coughing near me, but hey, it’s all good.
Tomorrow I’m thrown straight back into my unfortunate reality. And by that, I mean I have 5 hours of therapy ahead of me. Five! All for my boys. 2 hours of PT, 2 hours of OT and 1 of speech. I just…that’s my life.
*Welcome home from vacation! You didn’t need a day to unpack or do 4 loads of laundry, did you? No! Time for therapies!!!!!*
Ugh. Honestly, it was so nice to have to stick to no ones schedule and routine but the one I wanted to. No therapies, no stress, no drama…it was just…
I don’t want to go home. I miss my kids and I want to see them, but I don’t want all that comes with it. If it were safe to travel with them right now, I’d scoop them up and bring them right back to Disney. Hopefully one day soon it will be safe enough for them to be around people again. (They have a rare type of muscular dystrophy, so we try to keep them as safe as possible.)
I’m sure I’ll fall back into the groove rather immediately, I don’t really have a choice.
I will say this though…as far as depression and wanting to die and all that fun stuff goes, mostly all of those thoughts and feelings were absent these past 2 weeks. There were glimpses, but nothing like what it usually is. And having that heaviness return, well, to say I’m dreading it would be an understatement.