Achy Heart, Tired Soul

It’s been a long while since I’ve done this.  I am having such a rough go lately that I feel it is important to get this shit off of my chest and out of my brain.  I need a break from whatever this hell is that is plaguing my mind.

Last week I had a nervous breakdown, basically.  Paul had to come home from work because I couldn’t stop crying and I didn’t feel as if I were even in my own body.  Gannon sat on the couch with me and rubbed my back while Waverly searched our faces for an explanation.  It was very emotional for all of us.

Egan had been sick for six days and cried incessantly.  It was so difficult to listen to the crying with the demands of the others.  I had a couple of panic attacks on the weekend while Paul was home.  Sometimes it just feels like we can’t catch a break.

It is easy to forget about our mental health and how fragile some of us truly are.  I am one of them.  I hold myself to a high standard and any day I fall short I beat myself up over it.  This is every single day of my life because I have three kids.  On top of beating myself up and telling myself I failed once again I am an emotional sponge.  When my kids are upset it affects my being.  I get frustrated and yell and feel awful.  I feel like the patience I had at one point in my life is completely nonexistent today.

This place in my life feels so ugly.  It is unbearable.  I want to run away and never return.  I am also thankful for everything I have.  I love my kids and my husband but I don’t love myself.  I have texted “I hate myself” to Paul more times than I can count the past week or two.  It is hard.  Before having children I often suffered bouts of depression that seemed never ending.  Then one day the clouds would part and the sun would shine again.  Now that I am here, in this place, I feel only the clouds no matter how hard I try to feel the sun.  I want to feel the sun shining on my face, on my shoulder.  I want to feel the sun in my heart.  I want to shine for my kids.  They deserve better.

I worry about them every second.  Every time I yell I worry that they will remember.  They are becoming fearful of me.  I can see it in their eyes when my voice starts to take on anger.  I see the way they walk on eggshells or are afraid to ask me a question.  It makes me want to die.  Knowing that I am doing that to them is beyond awful.

Last night Gannon had a panic attack.  Paul was at a meeting and I was left to get all three kids to bed which is no easy feat alone.  I did my best.  But my best was not working.  It was out of their routine and they were wild.  I got so angry that I needed to go downstairs.  Gannon immediately started sobbing.  I went back upstairs and tried again.  I told them I was going to have to go downstairs again if they didn’t settle down because I was getting frustrated.  I ended up needing to go back downstairs and Gannon lost it again.  I stayed downstairs because my blood was still boiling.  By the time I went back up he was covered in sweat and told me he felt like his stomach was going to die.  He was minutes away from throwing up, had I not gone back up to comfort him.  He is terrified of the dark.  He was terrified that I left him.  His heart was beating so fast and he wasn’t breathing.  He kept gagging.  I left him to that because I couldn’t stand it.  But what couldn’t I stand?  They are children.  I am an adult.

I know that I am broken.  I am doing everything in my power to fix it so I can be the mother and wife my family deserves.  They certainly shouldn’t live wondering what mood I will be in when I wake up in the morning.  Everyone is entitled to have a bad day but it ends.  Bad days end.  I need this to end so they know they can trust me again.

I can only hope that they know how hard I am trying and some day, in the future, I hope they realize how hard this was for me too.

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