It’s so dark.

This darkness claims all the light. I am not sure how it creeps up like this. Everything feels cold, even the sun. The joy and the laughter is gone. The headaches have returned along with an exhaustion so deep even driving the speed limit is too difficult. The darkness seems never ending.

It is always triggered by an inconsequential event. Something small that provides only feelings of worthlessness and failure. It spirals from there into an endless pit of negativity and thoughts that should never turn into anything but. There is some reprieve only in the beauty of the outside world; the glittering of snow in the sunlight, a sunrise too beautiful for words.

I don’t know how many days it has been now. I’ve been secretly thanking my children for pulling me through though often they are the cause of the chellenges that feel impossible. The endless demands and fighting and crying and diapering and laundry and feeding and sickness and everything else that goes along all day long. Every single day. I would love to lay in bed for a few hours, my head under a blanket, alone with quiet and stillness. This is not an option even with nightfall as there are two nocturnal creatures who mew in the night and chicks living in my laundry area who peep in the night and some canines who enjoy panting in my face while I try to sleep. The night proves to be nothing but as loud as the day. My thoughts are louder because the distractions are fewer and sleep does not come easily even with the exhaustion I face.

This darkness. The need to shower but being unable to in peace. Or reading a book. Or writing more than one goddamn word before hearing “mommy” from across the room or the house or the yard or the earth. The need for quiet. For stillness. For breathing for myself and for hearing my own thoughts and for making myself food before worrying about everyone else first.

The darkness is a special kind of lonely. You feel alone and sick and misunderstood. It starts with the exhaustion of caring for sick kids for days on end. Irritability sets in and all of a sudden you become a wench. Nobody can do or say anything right and it is through no fault of their own. It’s that exhaustion again, making you ugly and cold and mean. And if that isn’t enough it causes other problems within problems which create unnecessary problems which only help the downward spiral. And once that spiral starts it is impossible to stop. No amount of yoga or writing or thinking or talking helps. Not that there is any energy for yoga anyway. The headache and the soreness feel like a serious illness.

The kids are sick. The oldest needs a change in diet yet again because of chronic constipation which unfortunately makes him a chronic pain in the ass. The fighting to get him to eat food to help him is enough to bring me to my breaking point. Not giving in when he is hungry makes me feel like I am failing him. But if I do give in to his requests I truly am failing him. Yelling at a little girl who has a borderline ear infection because she just won’t stop whining, obviously, makes me a failure. And being so sick of breastfeeding because it has been nonfuckingstop also feels like failing.

Sometimes it’s just too much to handle. Sometimes I lose my gratitude. I lose my happiness. I lose my passion. I lose my mind. I just lose my damn mind.

But. There is light in the form of three sweet, smiling faces who need me. And I need them. They are brighter than the sun and sweeter than honey. Their little hands hold the strength I need. Their arms they wrap around my neck with every hug. Their giggles that somehow find my smile.

They will save this broken down heart of mine. It will all be back to normal soon. Until the next time. There is always a next time.

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