Baby steps.

That has been something I have told myself over and over about lots of things since I came home from the hospital. It’s like my mantra.

I got hired at a daycare working just a few hours a week. I love spending time with kids, and it’s really good for me to be working just a little. Plus it’s a heavy weight off of my shoulders as far as finances are considered.

Yesterday was my first day. Before I went in I wasn’t having a very good day as far as my moods go. Starting any new job is really difficult… meeting all the new people, learning all the new things, wanting to make a good impression and do a good job. The first hour I was there I was counting the minutes until I would get done. I was put in the one and a half year old room, and I really don’t have experience with kids younger than three or four. By the second hour, however, I was no longer thinking about the time. I was just having fun with the kids, feeling good about being productive and remembering why I love working with kids so much.

It’s a small victory, but I am celebrating nonetheless. It’s been frustrating lately, because as I progress, I get even more anxious to start feeling truly stable again. Also, in the last week I sort of feel like I’ve run into a brick wall as far as progress goes. I’m doing a lot better than before, but this last week I didn’t really feel like I kept making improvement (again, as far as moods go.) I see the psychiatrist this week and we’ll have to talk about adjusting meds. When I left the daycare yesterday I was feeling so good about it, but within ten minutes I felt like my heart was just wrenched with anxiety and fear… again, of what? Nothing. I don’t know. I had plans for later that night and I almost canceled them. I forced myself not to though, and a couple hours later I made myself go. Another small victory.

But I’m celebrating nonetheless.