But I could also tell you

... that the weekend was also fairly heavily soaked with tears; butterflies persistently invading my tummy; sadness; losing my patience with my little 'un, who didn't really understand what the bikkie-baking caper was all about; too many glasses of wine; a thumping headache that wouldn't go away; resentment and silent criticisms for inauthenticity when really I was afraid that other people's achievements reflected badly on me (which I know they didn't, but that somehow seemed irrelevant at the time); racking sobs; hiding behind activity; numbing with junk food; feeling guilty for taking time out; and regret.

Because all of these things would also be true.