I have a little energy this morning- just a little.

It's Tuesday morning here, and that means my daughter has just gone with dad in the car to preschool. Preschool is a new thing for us, and it's been working well so far. She goes all day on a Tuesday and Wednesday, and has been since I spent a week in a psychiatric ward about a month ago.

The idea is that I get a break to myself and so does she. I felt so guilty sending her at first. Not because I think there's anything wrong with sending a child to preschool. The guilt came more from why she was going. I knew I needed to get away from her for a while, and that felt wrong. My depression was making me short tempered with her, and resentful that she needed ALL of my attention, ALL of the time. But I felt guilty for feeling that way.

But now, a few weeks in, I'm mostly over that guilt. She LOVES preschool. She comes home so excited to tell me everything she's done. She's still not able to speak in intelligible full sentences at her age, but she gabbles away, and I pick up the key words. "Paint mummy!" "Slide mummy" "Play dough mummy!" It's great to know that she's getting something good out of this separate time as well. 

But back to the slightly increased energy. This happens every week on preschool days for me. I guess it's because I know it's MY time, and I don't want to waste it. There's slightly more spring in my step as I drag myself out of bed at 6am to get her showered and dressed. I get some enjoyment from picking out the prettiest of her preschool clothes for her to wear. I smile and hug her with a bit more love, because I know I will miss her today, but know that I get to have my own space. What a luxury!

It's so quiet now. I can drop my shoulders and release some of that tension I always carry. I'll go and have a shower now. I haven't had one for 3 days.

I'm on my time now.