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So, checking my email this morning had a very Christmas feel. Not only did I discover that readers actually gobbled up last night’s literary milk and cookies, but they also rallied around me in a fit of support and praise. Yes, I received the festive gift of two positive comments and it’s not even noon yet!

I must admit, dear note-leaving souls, that your recognition of my most recent post has me floating on cloud nine.

Hello, Cloud Nine, it’s nice to see you again.

What? You’d like me to kick off my shoes and stay awhile? Don’t mind if I do.

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My sister has recently pulled the twigs and leaves and ladybugs of Maine from her dreads and has driven down to stay with us awhile. She has come to NC, I believe, under the pretense that she is my daily assistant. Folding laundry at my side, preparing healthy dinners of fiddlehead spaghetti, and sweeping up Silas when his whining (it’s this new independence thing he’s into) gets to me. And pointing out, whether I like it or not, that I am an unfaltering stream of negativity.

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So, maybe you’ve missed me. I’ve been gone awhile.

You might say I’ve had a breakdown of sorts.

But, I can tell I’m getting better. I can tell because I just used the age-old “sweep everything into the closet and tackle it in the morning” technique. Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have done that. Two weeks ago, I would have stood for countless moments staring at the pile of clean but unfolded laundry and reflected on how that pile represented the vile garbage dump of my personal failures. Then, I would have either maniacally begun sorting, hanging, and folding the laundry (despite the fact that it was near midnight and Silas would be up at 3am) while becoming increasingly irritable and frantic or I would have climbed into my bed and rolled up like a boxer’s fist and stared at the wall praying that my husband wouldn’t touch me and thinking about what an utter wreck of a person I was, what a poor, poor excuse of a woman and a mother.

That’s the truth. Just because of the laundry.

So, as I have said, since last we spoke, I have had a breakdown of sorts. I have been diagnosed with a postpartum condition. And, on top of that, the subject of my apparent bipolar disorder has resurfaced. Yippee. (That’s sarcasm.) (more…)