Blasted yo-yos.

The trouble with coming up to the surface is when you’ve finally broken through for the first time in a while and then you bob back under again.  The relief of finally feeling “normal” again is huge, and I forget that the swim to the surface has been lose a half for every two gained.  (Sorry, that’s awful English.  I mean two steps forward, half a step back, but that doesn’t fit with the swimming metaphor.)  So I make it, but then end up underwater again.  Not far under, but disproportionately angry with myself for being there at all.  And so very very tired – it’s been a slightly longer haul out of this than I hoped or expected, and I could do without another load of energy expended.  

I felt tonnes better for fresh air and new experiences yesterday, then spent the evening in A&E with my poor child number two, who having repeated the injury of two years ago, knew the score, and the treatment, and coped admirably.  The nhs staff were as ever excellent, the wait was quite long, but par for the course, and the plaster cast will do the trick.  Child number two deserves the sympathy, but I feel worn out today, and not quite sure how to pick myself up and get moving again.  Am I a swimmer or a yo-yo?


2 responses to “Blasted yo-yos.

  1. More hugs from me … Sounds like a difficult evening after quite a good day – but well done to you and the family for coping with it so well. That deserves a pat on the back.


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