Today was “good”.
I always put that word in quotation marks because really, what defines a good day? What makes it “good” for me might be completely unacceptable to someone else.
I usually find that to be the case, that my “good” days are sort of like…“holy shit, that’s a low standard”.
But today was…it was good. I won’t try to quantify it or break it down to expose the layers of pain underneath…I think I just want to leave it at that.
I did well (?ish? Maybe?) in therapy. I mean I didn’t leave wanting to die, so, again, that’s pretty much my measure of success. Anytime I don’t screw it up, and leave feeling better than when I walked in, that’s always great.
My kids were well behaved mostly all day. My 3 year old was…well, he was being a 3 year old for some parts, but they were both loving and sweet and kind to each other and to me. Good.
I never felt particularly anxious or stressed or angry. And although I never felt good, the lack of presence from those other emotions felt “good”.
My husband isn’t home yet, but I’m hoping we have a good night. Not a “good” night, but an actually good one, without low standards.
Today was “good”. And I’ll take it.
But I hope that tomorrow, or really any day, I hope that I can have the good, instead of just the “good”.
But I will always take a “good” day over anything less. Anything less is just…intolerable. And I am so, so tired.