Hitting Bottom?

At women's spirituality last night, someone used the phrase "hitting lowest bottom." It made me realize that hitting bottom can only really be identified in retrospect. It's less about how badly-off one is, and more about what one makes of the experience.

I've had worse times in my life than the past 3 months -- days when it really was hard to get out of bed -- but I never "got" that I wasn't in control. "Clearly," I thought, "If I could just be strong and get it together, I would be ok." Now, in contrast, I am generally functioning pretty well, even by my own standards. But I know that I cannot be a mom without the help of my friends, and that I am most definitely not in control.

During my week-long blog hiatus, I realized that the tightness in my foot (from nursing in bed, and probably too much running without cross-training) is plantar fasciitis. Sunday, feeling totally trapped in my own messy house, without even being able to escape for a run, I had to dump Speedy on the Swadfather (who had a paper to write) and go over to friends' to cry. Okay...to cry a lot. They listened, and then said, "Do you have anyone who might want to babysit for an hour or two? Good. Why don't you call them right now. We'll get the number for you."

Why not? Because then I would have to figure out what I wanted to do with time to myself, besides the occasional dispensation to work out. But, because my friends are both wise and good, I gave it a shot: Wednesday night, the Captain hung out with an over-tired Speedy, while I bought myself dinner and used the free wi-fi at O'Naturals. I returned home much more relaxed, to a baby who had consented to go to sleep, even though he's decided to wait me out rather than taking a bottle.