It isn’t you.
It is never you though I often make it about you. And about them.
But it isn’t any of you, really. It is always me.
You work hard to provide for us and for that I am thankful and appreciate you. They are little humans trying to figure out the world. Just like me. Except it is more acceptable when you are 5 and 3 and 1. When you are 31 people expect you to have your shit figured out.
But I don’t. I am still learning who I am and what this world has in store for me each and every day.
I’m a broken disaster of emotions I never learned how to properly cope with.
Too much thrown at me in one day and no time to process any of those things and a headache that won’t quit is making me spiral out of control.
I feel my grip loosening. My hands are slippery with Aquaphor, probably. I’m going to fall in, I’m more than halfway there.
There is too much on our plates. There is too much to do, too much to do, too much to do. Always. The more we fall behind, the harder it is to get ahead. We get close but then it is again out of our reach. Something else comes up.
This season. It’s really tough. It’s challenging to BREATHE for crying out loud.
The kids are outside with grandparents. I am trying to feel better, to write, to do SOMETHING to stop thinking for thirty seconds. But I can’t.
I have so many questions. None of which there are answers for or time. There is no time left to answer the questions I have. It’s done. I mean, I think it is done but I don’t know how much longer I can push off the questions I have. I don’t know if they can even be answered.
Life is much more complex than I ever realized.
I’m listening to music from my angst teen era. I feel it, still, in my angst adult mother era.
Bayside, I’m looking at you.
I want so much for this family. I want SO much. And what I want is simple. So simple. But yet. It is so far away. From reality. It is so far. And my slippery hands aren’t holding on well, and won’t be able to hold on much longer.
You know what I’m talking about. The spiral of doom. The end of the dreams. The hope that you all of a sudden realize is too big and there is not enough time or resources to make them happen. Simplicity is a romance in my mind. Enjoying moments as they come. It is not a reality. As much as I long for it, my broken mind doesn’t allow for it. There isn’t enough room. The chaos in my mind is scattered throughout the house. It is in the dust under and on every surface. It is in the clothes thrown in garbage bags to be sorted another day. It is on my desk, all the things I want to do with creativity that is begging to escape. It is in the living room, scattered in the toys I’m too tired to clean up from fighting the negativity. It is in the laundry room, where the piles of unfolded laundry sit. It is in the unfinished rooms. The pile of shit leading the way to another pile of shit. Not literal shit, just to be clear. It is in the dirt stuck to the sticky spots on the floors from a toddler who loves throwing food.
I’m so tired of fighting.
I’m so tired of dreaming.
I’m so tired of trying to do all the right things just be told that we aren’t doing all the right things and we are pissing people off when in reality we are trying so fucking hard not to piss anyone off. We are trying so hard to please everyone else and to do the right things and to get the normal day to day stuff done and I’m so busy trying to be sane that I am here. Staring at this screen. I don’t even know where these words are coming from because all I hear is the music next to me, playing for me, making me feel. FEEL. Something. Even if it is currently anger.
I’m so angry from being so tired.
I feel like I could sleep for days. And weeks. And months.
It’s hard work to rewire your brain. To beat anxiety when it hits you. To fight like hell to not slip into a depression you couldn’t control even if you wanted to because it doesn’t work like that.
But I won’t stop fighting because I’m a mom. And I’m a wife. And I am a woman. I won’t give up because there are bigger things to worry about. There are people I am responsible for. There are meals to prepare and laundry to wash and food shopping to do. There are books to be read and cars to be zoomed and block towers to be built and rebuilt time after time. There are movies to watch, there is popcorn to pop. There is coloring to be done.
I have bigger things to worry about.
There. Now I can breathe again. Bigger things to worry about. Okay, it’s okay. I can do this.
Because I am strong as a mother.