Today has been one of those days where I am pretty sure I just can’t do it. I feel completely inept at taking care of my children, my husband, the house and myself. The sleeping problems around here seem to be getting worse, not better, and I am exhausted.
I haven’t been to the supermarket in nearly two weeks. There are mountains of crap piled up on both the dining room and kitchen tables. The kitchen is only clean because Super-Husband cleans it, runs the dishwasher and empties the dishwasher every day. The floors – oh the floors. We have a sand pit in the area next to the dog door. Dog hair tumbleweeds drift across the living room. I can’t remember to do basic things like call the pediatrician for a refill on Jelly’s reflux medicine. Poor OW probably doesn’t remember what I look like naked. I’m so miserable and ashamed about how I’m neglecting him. I swore I wouldn’t.
You know how they say the Universe (or God or Allah or Goddess – take your pick) doesn’t give you more than you can handle? That’s a flat-out lie. It’s a lie. People regularly get more than they can handle. The fact that folks live, physically, through hard times does not mean they “handled” it. People freak out, retreat, end up in psych units, drink, drug and lots of other things.
I’m not drinking (much anyway), drugging, near being committed or anything like that. I am freaking out and retreating. We ARE given more than we can handle sometimes. Now is one of those times for me. There is a voice in the back of my head that whispers, “They will grow out of this. This isn’t forever. You will sleep again. You will be able to vacuum the floor again. You will shave your legs again. You will be able to make time for your husband again.” But I don’t believe her. I’m having a really hard time seeing past the sleep deprivation; past the endless, miserable days when the boys simply will not sleep.
I made a decision last week that was really, really hard for me, and I’m still not sure I’m doing the right thing. I think that’s adding to the stress I’m feeling. I’m not good at making decisions, which is why I married a man who is great at it, and I am nearly always happy to defer to his judgement. But this was a decision only I could make and no one could or can really help me with it.
I come back all the time to the nagging worry that I will not make good decisions and that my poor decisions will negatively impact my children and haunt them into adulthood. I know this is a possibility because I see the results of my bad decisions in my two adult children. The regret I live with is crushing and makes me feel nearly paralyzed when it comes to making certain decisions about the kids in Parenting Part II. I KNOW that I am inept in some ways. Not in every way, I’ll give myself that, but in ways that count. I didn’t think I would have to revisit my shortcomings in this area again. Now here they are, bright and shining in my face like an interrogation lamp.
Maybe I’ll be able to see things more clearly once I’ve had a few days of decent sleep, but I don’t know when that will be. In the meantime, I am desperately treading water, trying to stop the waves from pushing me under. Sometimes it seems like it would be easier to just stop kicking, but I know I can’t. And I won’t.
But damn, my legs are tired.
That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.