Last week we had a week of sailing. After buying our beautiful wooden yacht we realised that the sensible option would be to hire an instructor and learn how to sail properly. Last week was that week.
We were following a course and by the end of the week had not only passed Level 1, but also Level 2! We were, and still are, delighted.

I really enjoyed the week, things at home have been quite challenging with Harry at the moment mostly down to terrible twos and testing the boundaries but it got to the point where I really needed some time away.
My mum booked the week off work and was an absolute star looking after Harry all day and collecting Charles from school everyday, giving them their dinner, getting them ready for bed. Harry and the school run is a challenge in itself so to be thrown into that must have been really hard work.
I felt bad knowing that my mum was going to have her hands full. It didn't seem fair for her to have a holiday from work to then have to have a stressful week and not feel at all rested and in fact in need of  a week of rest.
I wasn't able to relax and switch off as much as I hoped but despite that I still enjoyed my time away. I enjoyed learning something new. There's something about the boat that makes me feel relaxed, and being out on the water, although it sets off my anxiety, is also quite relaxing.
Our sailing instructor was amazing too. I get on very well with people I can have banter with. Someone I can be cheeky with, have a laugh with, yet someone I can also admire and respect.
I felt I could really be myself and that was amazing. To just open up and be me, with someone I had only met one afternoon previous.
In fact I opened up more than I thought as we discussed my mental health and things that have happened in my past. Things a lot of people don't know.
But getting home every night felt weird. We were getting home late, having to get the boys in bed...or back in bed if they had woken up. I had to make dinner, tidy up as much as I could manage, have a bath and all other sorts of jobs a housewife has to do.
It was the longest time I have ever spent away from the boys. I was seeing Charles for an hour in the morning, really squeezing him tight as I dropped him off at his classroom at school, knowing that the next time I would see him we would be rushing them off to bed.
The whole week, when it came to home time, felt so rushed and just not at all normal or natural. I lost enthusiasm for everything.
I didn't want to clean (well, I never do), I didn't want to watch my favourite tv programmes, I didn't want to write blog posts, I didn't want to read blog posts, I didn't want to do anything.
It wasn't even that I was super tired. I just had somehow lost my zest for life, maybe leaving it on the boat as we left.
Although of course I saw the boys everyday, it wasn't for long and it was really rushed. I felt like a rubbish mum and despite reminding myself that it's only for a week I still felt quite terrible. I didn't really get the chance to talk to Charles about school, I didn't get the chance to ask Harry what he had done that day, I didn't get to ask them about their dinner and about how the school run went.
On Saturday I went to a birthday party at a soft play centre with Charles, and my mum looked after Harry. As I got home with Charles my mum left, to have an afternoon of peace, and I felt a bit stuck. I didn't know what to do, which is odd as they are my children and it was only 5 days but I felt really disconnected from them.
I felt like I had to work really hard to get back in with them, which wasn't down to them at all, it was simply down to me.
 The same thing happened when I sat with the laptop. Usually I am straight in there. I know what to write, or I create a few drafts to go back to later. I have an idea of which photos to use but, nothing. Absolutely nothing.
I struggled taking part in the linkys I regularly take part in. I just felt like I'd run out of air. Like my balloon had burst and I was a bit flat.
Of course this is ok, blogging isn't everything. Is it?
To me it is. I get panicky if I can't workout when my next post will be. I like to know when posts are going up, if they are part of a link up, I need to have full posts in draft to hit schedule on if needs be. But last week and this week I have struggled.

I looked around my house and just saw stuff. Stuff I usually live surrounding me. Piles of Harry's clothes in every single room left when he decided to get changed....again. Pens and paper without a home, toys just *there*. Unable to keep up with washing, and not knowing if Charles had a clean uniform the next day. (Thank you for sorting that mum). Not knowing what to cook my husband for dinner, or myself. Not knowing if our food was in date.
Is the cat ok?
Is the rabbit ok?
Do I need milk?

I have felt emotional, drained but not tired. I panicked about my diet because I've done so well and for a week my meals couldn't be planned. I didn't know when or where we would be eating but despite having a couple of treats I think I kept enough control to go full steam ahead again.
I adore the boat, I really really really do. Especially after now knowing how to sail her.
But something I don't adore? The feeling of being disconnected.
Not feeling like I was living, simply just being. Crashing along unaware of life and what was going on around me. The feeling of everything being quite dark and not being able to see a way out.
Am I now finding my way out? I hope so.

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