Eliot has been with his father for almost a full week now, and I haven't seen him. I can barely even type that line without hyperventilating. Naturally, I decided this week would be a great time to forget to refill my medication. For four days. Because I need more drama in my life.
So I've had a rough week.
Poor Steven, who has been valiantly riding the waves of my insanity for the last four months, has been wonderful to me. He still seems to not just tolerate me, but actually adore me, even after I sent his Samsung touchscreen phone through the washing machine and spin cycled it into a watery coma. Inexplicable, I know.
Yesterday we went for a drive to admire the funky clouds filling our sky. It was calming, and beautiful. I'm reminded that the place I am in now, even at my worst moments, is SO much healthier and sane than the place I was in four months ago. I need to hold onto the recognition of progress, to know in my bones not only that things will get better, but that they ARE better.
I intend to squeeze every last drop of joy that I can out of what's left of July.
Only one more day until I see my son again. I can do this.