I'm at breaking point. But this time, it's a different kind of breaking point. I'm not longing for the black shroud (as much as usual), but instead, I want to escape and live. There is so much going on, and I so desperately want to be a part of it. Of ALL of it. I don't even know where to start.
There are people I want to see, places I want to go, things I want to do, but i just don't seem to have the time to do them. And when I get to one thing, something else calls and I have to deal with that instead.
Lately I've found myself saying "can you just hold on? There's only one of me", all too often. Everyone wants something, and I'm running out of myself to give. I try to hold on to some of me to save for the things I want so desperately to give to (my husband? my children? Myself??), but I feel so damn stretched, to breaking point, to exhaustion.
I feel there is so much expected of me; everyone wants something of me, and it has to meet a standard. I'm (almost) always funny on twitter, so it doesn't feel right if I'm feeling shitty. Supposedly, that should reflect on my blog, so this should be funny too. Instead, it's not. I go from hilarious crazy ass posts, to ones that leave you feeling like you never knew me. And whichever way I go, guilt also ensues.
I was talking to someone who's become a very good friend recently, about parenting and how real we actually are with each other. I couldn't agree with her more when she said there are too many people out there who paint an eternally picturesque beautiful scene. To which I added "yeah, where everyone shits roses" (she's much better spoken than myself, to be fair). And this is the truth. Not enough parents (moms especially) admit to how crap this job really can be.
It's currently early afternoon, and today has been shit. I've been trying to work on my website all morning (with very little success), the boys Grandparents came to visit (which got to the point where Noah was jumping off the damn furniture and throwing a ball at the damn tv).
By the time nap time came around, I just wanted a break. I just wanted the 12pm lunch/nap time routine to run as smooth as possible, so I could just get 5 mins of peace. It ended up with Isaac fussing in his cot for half an hour. Not so bad. Noah however, ended up in a time out, a bloody lip, a cut face, yelled and shouted at, a broken drawer (which I have now fixed) and a mother who now feels the epitome of shit.
And all because I was too damn impatient for my 5 minutes. And now Isaac is awake, and instead of thinking "Yeah! I get to have a cuddle with him!" I think to myself "Please, just go back to sleep and leave me alone."
Guess I'll be back in a minute.
Quite suddenly, I seem to have made some damn awesome friends. I don't think I've ever had friends like these, where I feel I could actually tell them just about anything and they'd stick around for more than 5 minutes to sit and listen (WITHOUT interrupting). And these are people I want to spend time with. People who give a shit about me. But I feel so tied down, and this damn guilt overrides everything I think. And then when people say "where are you? What's going on?" I wonder what the hell I'm supposed to do, because I'm just busy trying to take care of my shit. And sometimes it just seems like there's a whole lot of shit to take care of.
I love my boys (all three of them) so very much. I would do anything for them. But at the same time, I feel like there is nothing I can do for them. I often feel like I'm causing more harm than good. Noah and Isaac have been poorly with one thing and another for nearly a month now, so Cabin Fever is in full force. So I can't take them out. We can't go and visit people. We're stuck indoors. And Noah shows little interest in activities; drawing, stickers and chalking ends after about 5 minutes, usually in tears (of what? I don't know. Frustration? Boredom? You tell me, because? I can't understand him).
Isaac spends the best part of the day causing serious trouble; he's trapped his fingers in everything in which there is to trap them. He isn't walking, so cruising round the furniture regularly means he slides off and hits head on the nearest sharp object, even if it isn't nearby. Somehow. He's much more wimpy than Noah, so spends a good part of the day in tears. Again, not helped with him being poorly.
And there are days when all I want to do is just chat on Twitter. It's like some horribly addictive drug that I can't get enough of; like some kind of club that you've always wanted to be a part of and if you're a member, you have to work hard to stay a member. But it's always worth the effort.
But at what point do I stop? I've got so many things booked for the next few weeks (including meeting new friends I haven't yet met before, travelling to Devon on my own for a weekend, going to a photography exhibition on my own, birthday parties and much more). But where and how do I draw the line and say, "this is it - I need to cut out this and that; I need this person and that person to just give me a bit of space; I need a BREAK." How does one do that, without feeling the guilt? As a mom? Who. Just. Wants. Some. Time.
Does it happen? Because if I'm pulled in any more directions, I am surely going to rip.