The other day I wrote from an angry place. I want to say that then everything got better but it didn’t.
Yesterday it was 40 degrees in South Dakota, so after school I sat in my driveway and soaked up the sun. You could see my breath, but I don’t give a flying fuck. There was sunshine. I heard birds chirping. The snow was melting. I mean, really, perfect first day of Spring in a state that had a record breaking blizzard just last week.
You’d think that everything would have been hunky dory after that. And I wanted it to be, and maybe for a second it was.
But then, my husband and toddler came home. G was screaming and crying when they got home. He didn’t feel like he got to say goodbye to his friends. My husband was short on patience. And honestly, this has been our last couple weeks. Screaming, crying, and I’m playing the patient one.
Patience is not one of my personality traits.
I shut down. I cried. I didn’t eat supper. I feel like everything is falling apart and nothing matters. I’m overwhelmed with schoolwork. I’m overwhelmed with my job. I’m overwhelmed by my toddler’s toddlerness. I’m overwhelmed by my husband’s odd personality shift lately.
I told my husband this morning things aren’t good for us. He’s edgy and odd. He has no patience, and trust me when I tell you, this man used to have the patience of a saint. I don’t know if it’s the toddler, the wife with mental illness, or the job that’s snapped it. But I do know that it’s hard to look at someone and think, you’re not the person I fell in love with right now.
I feel like everything is falling apart around me and I don’t know how to fix it. And I don’t know that I have the energy or care to do so. I feel so separated from my life. I want to be the proactive person I know I should be.
And…other than the disassociation that I’ve become uncomfortably familiar with, I’m pissed. I’m pissed because I’m trying to do everything right and it doesn’t fucking matter.
I’ve gained quite a bit of weight this pregnancy. So I eat salads and I try and walk for 30 minutes every school day: Doesn’t matter, my legs are still swelling and I hurt so fucking bad in my pelvic bone and hips.
I try to be patient and read the books about mindful parenting rather than just screaming and hitting: Doesn’t fucking matter, my toddler tells me to “Leave I alone!”
I try to be a good teacher who sets up lessons and brings up relevant life points: Doesn’t matter, they’re checked out or on their phones.
I try to be proactive about mental health by seeing my counselor, walking, writing, etc: Doesn’t matter, I’ve been having thoughts of suicide for a week.
I try to be a good partner by talking, helping, whatever and feel like I’m being shut out. I try and be a good mom, but my kid is a shithead anyway. I try to be a good employee, but I don’t think anyone notices or cares.
It’s discouraging, and frustrating, and exhausting. I wish I had the answers, I wish there was a quick fix. I wish I knew how to feel better. But. Life isn’t that simple, is it?