When Mika was young, one of her favourite songs was 'Michael Finnegan', and it went like this:
"There was a man named Michael Finnegan; he grew whiskers on his chin-igan; the wind came up and blew them in again; poor old Michael Finnegan... begin again."
And then the words repeated over and over until you were ready to scream. Or maybe that was just me. ;-)
Anyway, as I sang the song ad nauseam to my daughter, it never occurred to me that I might actually be singing the theme song of my life. Not the beard part, perhaps, but that whole 'begin again' part? Definitely that.
Because here we are, a year and a half after my last post on this blog, and we have dozens and dozens of fresh starts under our belts that I haven't had the time or the energy (mostly the energy) to put into words here. We've continued working with the naturopath to get Mika's body chemistry balanced, we've had more tests done, we've tried so many new things that I've lost count of them all, and now... now we're starting something new again.
And... *whispers*... I think this one is working. *knocks on wood*
About three weeks ago, Mika announced that she wanted to try an antidepressant. She'd been hesitant up until this point, because medications can have some interesting (not in a good way) side effects for her, and she wasn't willing to risk the adaptation period that sometimes comes with antidepressants in particular. Well, there have certainly been some less-than-pleasant effects to deal with, but they're diminishing, and Mika is happily taking the pills despite them because yeah... the keyword there? Happily.
Because oh. My. Gosh.
It took four days for her to start feeling the effects, at which point she informed me that she felt like smiling all the time, and it was weird and freaking her out. We laughed about it together.
On day six, she commented on how happy she felt and how it still freaked her out, and pondered the possibility of sleeping it off. We laughed some more.
On day eight, she commented on how pretty the world was now that she could see colour again.
Let that settle for a minute. My 24-year-old daughter has been living without colour in a world that was cold and empty... and gray. I had no idea it had gotten that bad for her, and holy heck, the guilt that came with the revelation was quite something. Because I'm her mother. How on Earth could I have missed something so profound? So awful?
I'll save my guilt for another post, however, because this one is about colour and smiling and my daughter beginning again. And it's about me beginning again, too.
I'll admit I'm not smiling quite as much about the idea as Mika is right now, because in the absence of the pressure I've lived under for the last few years, a certain fatigue has set in. Physically, mentally, and emotionally, I'm exhausted. Happy that my daughter is happy, but so bone tired that I could cry. But...
But I'm hopeful, too. Hopeful that I'll have a bit more time and energy for my own things in life--gardening, preserving, reading, walking--and super hopeful that I can focus on that writing career of mine that's been hanging on by a thread for the past ten years. Because it would be awfully nice to put out more than one book a year (or every two years, as has sometimes been the case), and even nicer if I could finally focus on finding the readership I think my stories deserve.
So I'm respecting the fatigue, but I'm not letting it own me. I've started writing a new book, I'm taking some marketing classes, I'm playing around with promotions, and--slowly--I'm moving forward. I'll also be posting here again on a somewhat regular(ish) basis, so do stay tuned for more on the guilt-trip and other fun travel tales. ;-)
In the meantime, it's good to be back... thank you for your patience in waiting for me to begin again! <3