No. Not that one. (Although…)
This one.
I’ve decided that mood stabilization does, indeed, work. At least so far. For me. Sometimes I can feel the fringe of the battle raging within, but it’s only the fringe. I know the battle is there, but I’m no longer on the front line under fire. Instead, I’m tucked safely away in a watchtower. Observing, but not being pummeled.
I like that.
Every night as my head hits the pillow, I try to think of the happiest moment of my day. It’s such a good exercise, because it makes me think of all the moments of happiness, and weigh them against each other to decide which was the best. So I fall asleep with happiness as the last thing on my mind.
Sometimes I’ll ask Mr. Gadget what his happiest moment was, but I think he thinks it’s a trick question, so he tells me what he thinks I want to hear, “Coming home after work, walking in the door, and seeing you and Harry. Dear.” I tell him it’s not a trick question, but he must not believe me, because he gives the same answer every time I ask. (Of course, it is possible that that truly is the highlight of his day. I’m not complaining!)
Some of my happiest moments take place on mornings of days in which I stay home. Early morning, in my office. Eventually I hear soft steps making their way carefully down the stairs. I hear the gentle tinkling sound of the safety gate opening and closing. I hear little footsteps, padding towards the office. And there he is, my sweet little man, groggy and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Looking for me. It makes the heart swell. I open my arms, he climbs into my lap, and we have our morning conversation, which always goes like this: “Did you wake up?” I ask. “Yyahh…” he replies in his sweet young voice. “Did you have a nice sleep?” “Yyahh…” “Did you have some dreams?” “Yyahh…” (And then sometimes we talk about spiders and he tells me of the time that he woke up screaming, thinking there was a spider crawling on his face, but it was just the curtain. Or a spider on the curtain. Or a dream about a spider on the curtain. Or all of these things.)
And he lets me snuggle him for a few moments. Those are the moments I love best, because usually he has so many other things he’d rather do than let me hold him close and bury my nose in his hair. I treasure those moments, fleeting as they are.
