I feel like a parental failure today. There’s an Air Show in the area and I’ve barely left the house. I’ve let the kids just watch TV and play video games. I’ve yelled at my daughter for having multiple accidents. I’ve yelled at my son for acting his age. I’ve been exhausted and moody. I skipped church. I’ve been buried in my phone for a good part of the day. I feel like a horrible person and I just haven’t wanted to be a mom today. I want someone to take my children away from me and let me wallow in depression for a few days. I guess it’s probably for the best. My kids may be keeping me from doing something stupid.
I get up anyway.
I work, regardless.
I run in obligation.
I cook to provide for my family.
I pay bills to stay solvent.
I drink to relax.
I’m tired still.
It never goes away.
Even when I finally get to sleep.
I wake up tired and start again.
I am so tired. I cannot even see clearly, I’m so tired – my vision is actually blurry.
This weekend, it was wonderful to see family, but I believe I did it all at the expense of my own health and sanity. And the fun continues here at home with all the promises and obligations I have between work and home. At the moment, I cannot imagine how I can accomplish all the things I have promised or am expected to accomplish. Even down to the basic things like feeding my kids (although current-me is profoundly thanking past-me for remembering to plan out at least this week’s meals – especially since recent-past-me completely forgot that past-me had done such a thing and was stressing out about it). My current life situations feels like way too much. Overwhelming – that’s the word I’m looking for.
On top of that, I have no one to talk to about it, and no relief in sight – outside of this private blog, I guess.
On that note – it may be that the writing thing I was ridiculously ambitious enough to conceive of below will probably not happen. I do not know what time I was imagining that I would have. Past-me has her failings in being over-ambitious sometimes, I suppose.
Or, I’m just not seeing the forest at the moment because I’m buried under too many trees that have fallen on top of me. I think the biggest thing to do is not anticipate the whole forest burying me alive (which I’m prone to do) and either push off the trees one at a time or dig my way out from underneath everything.
In the meantime, I need to remember my mantra: “Everything will be okay. I will make it all work out somehow.”
I just had a realization. Back when I was in school, I was the smart-ass know-it-all, obnoxious type who never had any problems raising my hand and speaking up. I would get sick of all the silent people in the room who were just trying to avoid calling attention to themselves. Sometimes, it seemed that everyone in the room but me had the “someone else will speak up about it” mentality.
Online, though, I tend to clam up. I have told very few people of this blog’s existence, I do not tweet much of my own thoughts, and I keep my FB access fairly tight, close-knit, and censored when I see nastiness. I wonder if that’s borne from a mild sense of fear of being attacked in this environment – which is so prevalent. I bet it’s because I do not consider the internet to be any sort of safe space, whatsoever. Because encountering respect and reasoned discourse in this medium is more rare than outright vitriol and base-level entrenchment into personal biases.
Just some thoughts.
So, every time my husband goes away for the reasons he goes away – especially for the extended periods, I feel it useful to take on a project – something I can work on to pass the time and make something (maybe) useful.
For the first one, I had fewer responsibilities and divided a canvas into squares to doodle in – one for each day he was gone. I wasn’t able to quite get a square a day – I missed a month or two at a time at points – but I did cover the whole canvas by the time he came back home. It’s not much to look at as a whole, and is full of all sorts of nonsense, amateur art, but I did manage to do a passing copy of Van Gogh’s Starry Night at the bottom of the frame during a portion where I missed about a month or two of squares, and we still have it to hang in some obscure part of our house (the laundry room right now). So it’s a creation of sorts to commemorate the absence.
I’m seriously considering writing a book or a novella of some sort for the coming stretch(es). I’d like to set a reasonable goal – maybe 100 words a day. I’ve been seriously considering NANOWRIMO for a few years, but November for me is a sucky month to focus on anything other than birthdays and Thanksgiving, and the 1,000-words-a-day goal has always seemed too intense for me – too far of a stretch given everything else that’s always going on in my life. So, 100 words is something that is much more do-able and over the time that the hubby is gone, may amount to something over the long run. At the same time, it wouldn’t be too bad if I miss a few days and have to catch up – I’d have to miss 10 days to get to the NANOWRIMO goal for one day, 30 times in row.
I’ve had random plot ideas floating through my head for months now. There’s no real structure, but I’m thinking that if I don’t care, and I let the words flow, there might be something that actually develops out of it. And if not, I’m not pushing to publish or really have it seen by anyone else if it seems to suck, but it’s something constructive and productive to do with my time. It’s also something I can edit the ever-living shit out of (I LOVE editing and critique-ing – even myself) And it’s an interest that has been sitting in my head for a few years now – one of those “if I had endless resources and really did something I *wanted* to do with my time, I would maybe write something of value” things. It will be interesting to see how I keep up with it, but I think I’m going to fly with it.
Depression rain – of the tropical sort in a not-so-tropical clime.
The rain falls and the wind blows outside, leaving the world in a gray haze.
It is a day for mellow, minor-key music.
The house is quiet – broken only occasionally by my cat dashing past my feet in a bid to play for a bit.
Work calls in a jumble of words and numbers that need to make sense to everyone though they will only be seen by few and then filed away.
I await the sun’s return tomorrow.
Did I have a Happy Easter?
But I think I may have found at least one moment in the day that brought me happiness on a personal, non-Mom level.
At the same time, I’d like to say that there is way too much fracking sugar in the holidays. All of them. Each of my children got multiple *bags* of candy that would easily go around a classroom or an office for a few weeks. It’s absolutely ridiculous. I threw away at least three or four bags of the worthless junk and strongly wish to trash the rest. I despise sugar in these quantities.
To be frank, though, I’ve been fighting disdain and anger and annoyance and hate and other, similar, negative feelings all weekend. I’ve been wearing a mask to cover it all and I only just now took it off.
Not my best Easter weekend. And now I face the abyss of the first normalcy I’ve seen in my life since October, and even then, it’s a normalcy veiled in loneliness.
All I really can do is pray. God is the only one I really have to talk to for at least the near future…