I know this feeling.
I know having a task but only being half there to complete it, because my heart feels so heavy and my mind is so runny.
I've done lots of things this way.
Yes, I've taught this way.
But I never thought I'd play with my daughter this way.
Still, I'm pulling it off. I am full of energy. I am dancing. I am crawling after her. I am laughing with her--taking turns, I laugh, she laughs, I laugh. I'm doing the dishes. I'm making dinner. I'm picking up toys. I'm kissing her goodnight and putting her down for a nap.
I am breathing a lot of deep breaths.
If I didn't have this motivation, I would surely be lying down. Anywhere. The couch. The bed. Maybe even the floor.
I don't think people can tell. I went to the grocery store, I made small talk with the cashier. I didn't forget any of the things we needed, and I didn't even have a list. And I didn't buy a bunch of chocolate or chips in a doomed-to-fail attempt to make myself feel better.
I know I can do this. I know this will go away. I know I can't let this get any worse. I know I only have a certain amount of power over that last--I know it grows all by itself. It doesn't even have to be fed. But I'm squelching it with drugs and thoughts and everything I can think to use against it.
I am fierce.
But it's like ants when they invade the kitchen. You use the chemical stuff at the source, maybe just outside. And then, because you don't want the poison on your counter tops, it's Windex or cinnamon or baking soda. Does any of it work? And the next day they're somehow back.
Thank God my girl's favorite thing to do is smile her crinkle-nose smile.