To Be Heard

Ever want to just be understood? When you talk things out loud you want someone to commiserate with you, understand where you’re coming from. If you say you’re tired because of your children, let’s say, you’d hope that your partner is on the same train and understands why you feel the way you do. 

I made a mention of something that I think that we could’ve done better to my husband tonight and instead of understanding where I was coming from, I heard, “Well, if you’re that tired, maybe you should stay at a hotel.” 

I guess it doesn’t sound so awful because you’re not in my head. In my head, I not only feel like he doesn’t think I can be a good mother, but he also doesn’t get the fact that I love my kids. I have so much fun with them. All I said was that we could’ve done better on some things. 

Ok, maybe I was at fault, but when I hear things like, “I don’t complain because they’re my babies,” I feel like he’s comparing himself to me. I might be extremely ridiculous in thinking like this, but it’s always a comparison when we argue. 

I’m not perfect. I’m not. I’m proud of how far I’ve come and where I’ve been, but I don’t want to have to have the stress of holding myself to a standard, to be like everyone else, to have someone laugh and say, “You do you,” but with an added eye-roll.

Anonymous, 7.21.22

I always feel like he’s trying to show me up. Like he’s a better parent because he doesn’t complain about getting tired or being tired even though it affects his health overall. It’s like to him, being tired is a sign of weakness. I’m not afraid to say I’m tired because I know the value of rest, but when it’s used as ammunition or for something to come up later when he says, “Well, I do everything around here,” I have to always be on my game. 

That fucking sucks. I have to be on my game for work and on my game for home so that I don’t end up in a predicament I don’t want to be in. It’s horrendous sometimes. 

Today I saw a TikTok of Eva Longoria complaining about how it sucks that the next day you have to do things to “make it a day” all over again. Yes, it’s true. You have to do something every day. But why? In the grand scheme of things, we have been here for a smidgen of time compared to let’s say the Dinosaurs and we have made up these rules and laws about how we’re supposed to manage our lives. These things make us stressed and go crazy. For what? For a legacy? 

It’s incredible to me how much we think we matter in this world. We’ll be gone in a blink of an eye. Sure our kids will be around to bask in the glory of knowing their parents did white collar jobs so they could live a cushy life. Sometimes, I just don’t see the point.  

I’m not perfect. I’m not. I’m proud of how far I’ve come and where I’ve been, but I don’t want to have to have the stress of holding myself to a standard, to be like everyone else, to have someone laugh and say, “You do you,” but with an added eye-roll, kind of like saying, “Sure, sure. You’re doing it all wrong, but sure.” I don’t care about that and I never have. 

Sometimes I just want to voice my opinions and be heard. I don’t want a snarky comeback because in 100 years it won’t matter. At the moment it does and that’s what we’re really living for, right? 

When the cup is broken

I didn’t know I could feel like this. I didn’t know my partner would look at me with concern in his eyes, asking gently if I am okay. I blink plainly and say I am okay. But I can’t help but ask myself, “Am I okay?”

I have flashes of vision where I am watching myself in my normal grind and I recognize myself but then at times, I wish I could make myself stop moving, and hug her hard, tight, the all-knowing hug. The kind of hug that a loved one gives you when you need it the absolute most, while you collapse from the weight of whatever is holding you back. I know I am happy, at my core, my days are full of joy streaming from my miracle babies, but giving them that joy back is hard to muster. 

My friends and family don’t know that I am constantly dehydrated–to scary levels that have stopped me in my tracks, where my partner has had to bring me gatorade x4 as we wait for my heart to stop pounding, when I don’t feel like I am going to pass-out, and my electrolytes to regulate. This is perpetual because when you are dehydrated you need to rest, seriously, after an episode like that. But I barely know what that rest is. My partner tries hard, but we have 2 kids, two little ones, who need us the most at this stage in their childhood. He worries about me a lot. I can see it in his eyes and it breaks my heart. I saw the way my daughter looked at me when I was crying, and it broke me more. I know I am doing my best, but it doesn’t feel very “best” to me. 

“They say you can’t pour from an empty cup, but I have a dry well over here. The cup is broken.” 

ANONYMOUS, 3.2.2022

I go through the motions, and am thinking 4 steps ahead to do, prep, gather whatever is needed for my children, household, etc. I cannot stop my brain, I am hard on myself. This is when I think of that scene from The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood movie, when you see the mom lose herself after the kiddos have been sick and she checks herself into a motel and she does nothing but sleep for 3 days straight. Now granted, she was doped up, and coming off pills but there is a LOT of truth in the overwhelmed, exhaustion shown in that movie that I would bet any mother could relate to in some capacity. Now, I recall that scene and I think about how I need to book that quiet, solitary bed for myself to get much needed rest. 

So I guess the answer is no, I am not okay. I didn’t know that I would feel this way as a mother. This level of exhaustion is so much deeper than I realized it could exist. It is starting to consume me. I feel my body shutting down. Everything aches daily. My brain struggles to focus and recall. I feel like I am on the brink of tears all the time. I lie to myself every day a million times a day. I lie to my family, I lie to my friends, I lie to my kids. I am not okay.