Effexor rocks, I have decided. My seratonins & norepinephrines are all locked out of their reuptake spots and they're playing outside like good little neurotransmitters. So, coming out of the fog of last week's back attack, I feel revived and actually good. I caught myself last night worrying a little about that contentment, because being happy terrifies me. I was able to sort of coast to a smoother thinking pattern, though, and my mood is buoyed still.
I lay there with my daughter curled against me, and I breathed the stillness and soaked up all the sweetness I could from that darling moment. I felt the weight of her tiny body and the safe square walls surrounding us, and I felt the deep belonging I feel with this life now. I feel really at home in my world lately- as much as I can right now. (In some permanent way mom will always be a homesick void in me, and I'm missing my brother terribly- he moved out of state recently, and there's a stew of regrets there about not spending enough time with him.)
So to try to saddle up toward this prompt with both a mystical & a critical eye, "motherness" has made my life worth living, if you'll excuse my choking on that phrase. While for me, having a baby was the most specific and perfect kind of healing possible, I want to spit out the idea that motherhood validates women in some way that elevates them above unmoms. And I get really rankled up at the idea that my life's worth is contingent on anyone else.
Perhaps I should just paraphrase and glow thusly: my fey little sparkling girl infuses my life with new, delicious meaning.
Day 07 → Someone who has made your life worth living for.