Summer holidays week 3. We are spending the week in the North of France in a cute little house right by the beach. Should be utterly blissful, alas it is not. Being in a confined space with a lot of people for a long time is not particularly good for me. Even if we are talking about my family. My parents and my sons are all lovely on their own but put them together for longer period of time, they clash. Generational issues, different opinions and strong characters all come together. And I am the buffer in the middle who has to be permanently available to negotiate, mediate and smooth things over.
The problem with that is that a holiday is not really a holiday when you are constantly on guard. If, like me, you suffer from depression, you will know that your levels of stress and anxiety reach unbearable limits. For me, in day to day life, I can counteract that by regularly retreating and getting some time to myself to recharge. Which has been impossible this week and things came to a head on Thursday when I walked out on the lot of them to have a stroll on the beach by myself.
Only a temporary fix and while it shook up the male members of my family my mum was a lot less impressed and we had a bit of a row afterwards. Deep breaths and tongue biting included. The Friday went relatively peacefully and Saturday coming meant we were going back home. The boys had a good time and that was the most important thing. The journey back wasn’t as smooth as hoped – the weather made the crossing a bit rough and we were sitting outside Dover for over four hours before we were allowed to enter the harbour due to the strong winds.
But we got home eventually and were greeted by a very cuddles needing cat. Chilling was the order of the day until Sunday afternoon when the boys went to their dads for the next part of their summer holidays. Time to breathe for me.
Much love marvelous people. Candidly yours, TC.