Day 13: Mondays Are the Hardest

The Stillness After the Storm

These are the days I don’t do so well. The weekend was full: family, friends, little errands. Then Monday rolls around. Summer’s lunch is made and she’s off with Kike at 9am. Just River and me now. No plans, no structure. The house is filthy but I don’t know where to start and even if I did, I can’t, because River is right next to me.

I think about taking him to the cinema, but I show him a picture and he says no. I need to go to the shops for our holiday, but that won’t work either. I sigh and retreat back to bed.

When Depression Returns

I’ve struggled with bouts of depression for most of my life. They creep in quietly, but always end the same: me back in bed, in the dark, not ready to face the day. Avoiding life at all costs.

During COVID, I got into a routine with my breakdowns. I was working from home, teaching online, parenting two-and-a-half-year-old Summer and sharing a tiny one-bedroom flat with Kike, who was running virtual gym sessions. It was intense.

My escape came from themed quizzes. I threw myself into them like it was 2nd job. I’d spend the week obsessively planning them: Pirates, Police Camera Action (photo for evidence), writing questions, gathering video clips, rehearsing on Fridays and finally delivering the quiz on Saturdays. Sunday was Roast Dinner Day. But Monday? Monday always broke me.

I’d do the Joe Wicks workout with Summer (As we all were programmed to do), then the energy would drain and the tears would start. Back into bed I went. Summer would ask where I was and Kike would gently say, “Mummy’s not well on Mondays.” And close the door left to parent alone. Tuesday would roll round and I would be up and back ready to parent, work and plan the next quiz.
Funny how the brain works, really. It’s like mine quietly scheduled a reset. The world felt too big, the flat too small, and everything was just a bit too much but I kept going, because I had to. Until Monday. Mondays were the day I couldn’t.

Then Tuesday came and I’d be “back.” That was the cycle. I suppose it was my brain’s reset button.

The Pull of the Bed

It’s not lost on me that today is Monday. I should have known better than to plan nothing. It’s also the day Kike works late. The longest day.

River crawls into bed beside me. We sing “5 Little Monkeys,” he finds my projector and asks to turn it on. It could work, it’s not the cinema, but it might be better. We set it up and put on Minions. For nine whole minutes, it’s perfect.

But then he wants to play with the projector. Make shadows. Bounce like a monkey. Movie time is over. It’s 9:30am.

Little Moments, Big Effort

I put on YouTube just to give myself a minute to think. The pull of my bed is so strong. I tell myself: Go for a walk, Sarah. You don’t want to, but it will help. I get River dressed. I go to get myself dressed. I pull back the curtains from our “cinema bedroom.” It’s raining. Of course it is.

I sit on the bed. 9:45am. River appears, “Mummy?” he says. We go to the table to play with the putty. I make endless balls, and he rolls them, squashes them, shouts “MUMMY – BALL!”

10am. I sneak off for a shower. If I can’t go for a walk, I can at least shower. Five minutes later, River is outside the bathroom. “MUMMY – SLIME!” The putty is all over his trousers and T-shirt, weaved into the fabric. It’s not coming off. The clothes come off instead. Re-change. Putty away. 10:15am.

Just Keep Going

What now? You just keep going, don’t you?

River has his TV: CBeebies, because I can’t do Halloween songs all day. He’s happy, bouncing around. The shout from the bed is still loud, but I’m not going back there. Not yet.

There are clothes to put away. Lunch to think of. I need to order things because I’m definitely not making it to the shops.

And somehow, the day moves forward.

We Made It (Just About)

The day trickled by incredibly slowly. I put on a podcast. I love my podcasts. They break up the silence, make me feel less alone. I used to love reading before I had children, but I can’t sit with a book these days, so audiobooks are a good option too.

River and I played silently with some magnetic shapes. He prefers it that way. Talking mostly has to be initiated by him for it to be successful. I’ve learnt to listen and not push my agenda onto him. He’s currently obsessed with coins, so we spent most of the afternoon finding new places to hide them; in the putty, in the shapes, down the sofa, in Summer’s inhaler that she left out – all around the house.

The rain finally stopped, but by then it was too late to go anywhere. The walk to collect Summer would have to be my outing for the day. Of course, the moment we stepped out of the house, River was asleep before we even reached the end of the road.

He still naps, even at four. His school nursery have been brilliant, they’ve made him a little area where he can lie down with a blanket. To be honest, even they said there’s no real stopping him. Once River decides he’s going to sleep, he will, wherever he is. I wonder if it’s just that there’s so much going on in his world that he gets more tired – a sensory overload? He’s pretty active with his jumping, but I don’t think that alone explains the long naps. We did try to stop the naps at one point, but it was too hard and he was miserable. In the end, it felt kinder to just let him sleep.

Of course, this does mean bedtime is going to be late. I managed to wake him up for dinner, and he’s been screaming at Summer ever since he realised she was home. I’ve put on K-Pop Demon Hunters, it’s not a million miles from Halloween, and they’re both shouting anyway. I’ve seen the end already, so that’s something I don’t need to worry about.

And so, as I write this, we edge towards the end of another Monday.

We made it.

I only went back to bed a couple of times.