I don’t know how people do it. I don’t know how they can stay calm when there’s a storm brewing on the inside and a hurricane happening outside. I am so frustrated today and all I can do is shake my head and cry. I’ve been trying my damnedest to stay mindful and grateful for the last couple weeks and today just broke me. I lost my temper and I yelled at everyone. And the fucking guilt is eating me alive right now. Which is utter bullshit because I shouldn’t feel bad for others treating me bad and taking advantage of me. I’m under so much stress and trying to balance being a working woman, a mother in control and a wife is breaking me and the tears are streaming and I can’t type as fast as I usually do because the tears are blurring my vision.
Last night before I went to bed, I cleaned the house; the living room, the dining room and the kitchen and our bedroom, and finished ALL the laundry. I took time to sit down and write my husband a real heart-felt note, thanking him and appreciating him. I also pre-made the coffee in the coffeemaker because I knew he was pulling over time and would be home around 5:30am and probably wanting a mug of coffee to re-alert him to stay awake to take the kids to bed. But I also wrote in the note that if he’s too tired, I set my alarm to get up around 6 to get the kids up and off to school. I felt him climb into bed, so I figured he read the note and he decided to just crash. I get up, get the kids up and I am so exhausted from dealing with the baby throughout the night and early morning, I get to the couch and I instantly fall asleep. I am woke up by the kids yelling at me that it was 7:19 and we needed to go. I panicked and jumped up and ran to get my slippers and a sweater and rushed us all out the door. Here I am, exhausted, barely awake, driving kids to school before I’ve even had a proper cup of coffee. But taking them was just enough for me to wake up.
I spent the first half of my morning straighten up the house and going through paperwork. I finally got a mug of coffee and tried to entertain the baby and nothing was working. So I put her in her playpen and I went to get dressed for Zumba. She was screaming her head off and I was trying my damnedest to not get stressed out but her screams got under my skin and I snapped at Derrick to just go back to bed and that I’d deal with it. I rush back to the kitchen and fix myself a small and quick breakfast and then get Ivy ready and dressed. I brought the jogger in from the garage and buckled her in and gathered some water for me to take to Zumba and took off out the door, locking it behind me with lucky Derrick locked inside, alone, in a quiet house with a warm comfortable bed all to himself. Thankfully the walk in the sunshine helped ease my mood and I tried super hard to ignore my mother’s constant condescending negativity chit-chat. Ivy was patience and relaxed for the first 2 songs of Zumba but then she started getting fussy and I picked her up before she screamed and I completed 4 Zumba dances while holding a 25lb. toddler in my arms. Thankfully she fell asleep and I could place her in the jogger while I did the last 4 dances. I hung around a few minutes after class to chat with Bianca and Rio about my physical therapy and returning to work and how I missed Zumba last week.
I got home and it was already 11. I was thinking about having a snack and settled on just having another cup of coffee while straightening up the kitchen and dining room while Ivy napped in her crib. Derrick walks in and honestly I was so tired I didn’t want to have a real conversation with him. After dealing with my mom and Ivy all morning, my patience was already thin and to find out he didn’t even read the letter I wrote him hurt even more and I just went into the bedroom and decided to listen to guided meditation to avoid blowing up and yelling. I did deep breathing until I fell asleep and I was so grateful I had a 12:45 alarm to brush my teeth and hair and make a smoothie for a filling snack just before I sat in traffic on the freeway just to get to Ontario for 30 minutes of physical therapy. Thank god for PT. I love my therapist. She’s awesome and friendly and you can’t help but feel comfortable around her and her laugh is infectious lol. After PT I jump in the car and am instantly bombarded by traffic in all the directions I chose to drive. I was hungry and stopped at Del Taco and I was barely able to pick up Maverick for his therapy by 3:48pm. I got him there 3 minutes late, only because a main intersection was completely blocked off due to a bad car accident.
Speaking of accidents, I almost had one today when I drove my car up a steep curb because I swore I was in reverse and when the car lunged forward holy shit did I get scared.
While the kids are in their therapy appointments, I usually sit out in the car, parked under a shady tree and I either read, do homework or watch something on my iPad. Today I chose to watch AHS. But I couldn’t concentrate and focus on the show because Derrick was texting me and gave me some stressful news about our family’s monthly income and I freaked. I began hyperventilating. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t calm down. I panic and the anxiety gave me nausea and I puked right outside the driver side door. And rather than convincing myself that things will be okay and that we just need to tighten the reins a bit, I go to the store and pick up a 12 pack of Hanger 24. Besides all the stress I’m already dealing with, I somehow reminded myself that I still have a cake I need to make for a damn anniversary luncheon I’m hosting this Saturday. And I work Saturday. mind you, I won’t be home until 4am Saturday. I terrified of how I’m supposed to do it all.
And speaking of doing it all. I get home from all my running around and I’m tired and my shoulder hurts. I’ve been telling everyone my shoulder is fine and I’m ready to go back to work. Everything thinks I’m 100% because that’s what I’m showing–but there’s still some positions or reaches that make me twinge in pain. But I’ve been feeling guilty being off work, so I’m rushing feeling better just to get back. So my shoulder hurts from picking up a heavy box from the car, who’s handle rips on me and I drop it on my foot and I struggle to close the trunk and pick up the box with one hand while yelling for some help and no one comes. So I struggle into the house and drop everything and go to the bathroom. Derrick leaves for work without one mention of the letter I wrote him. And the kids didn’t do their chores and he didn’t care. Evelyn was drawing at the table, the girls on tablets and the PC and Maverick about to jump on the PS4. I mention the chores and literally physically go look at MJ’s room and it’s filthy and Derrick just takes MJ’s word that his chores are done and lets him have his way. I call Derrick down the hall to look at MJ’s room and off goes the PS4.
Also, the kitchen wasn’t cleaned, the table wasn’t wiped, the trashes weren’t emptied and the laundry wasn’t put away–guess who did it all? That’s right, me.
My mother has been here all day and rather than EARNING her RENT FREE living here, she spends her entire day smoking weed, watching TV in the living room or on her phone while her tablet is charging or on her tablet while her phone is charging. It’s 10:30 and she’s still in the living room “watching” tv while playing on her tablet.
There’s no changes happening in this household, at least not by anybody but me. I’m starting to wonder if I can survive living alone on $2K a month somewhere. Where I can’t complain about working and managing a household because I’d be the only party in the household and I have no problem pulling my own weight. But I can’t be a working woman, an injured woman trying to mend an injury, a woman with mental illness juggling therapy, medications, self care and support groups, a daughter apparently “caregiving” my freeloading mother, a sister constantly trying to be my little brothers cheerleader, a mother of 5 sometimes 6, but also is the mother AND the father, and be a wife, a wife who’s healthy and thin and pretty and funny and interesting and smart and good company. I’m not good company if I’m the only one doing everything. I’m fucking exhausted mentally and physically. And if this ONE week off from work was for me to mend a work-related injury, I spent more time irritating the injury rather than relaxing on a heating pad and taking pain pills and muscle relaxers…
I don’t want to appreciate anyone anymore because no one appreciates me–and they don’t because their actions TOTALLY speak louder than their fucking words. I’m just tired of begging, of yelling, of screaming, of arguing, of being patient, of settling, of crying, of sobbing, of smoking cigarettes and drinking due to stress and loneliness. I’m just tired of being tired.