I have been in a deep hole this week. It’s what my friends and I refer to as The Pit.
Caring for a sick baby and a three-year-old by myself has sent me to a dark place. Husband isn’t at home in the evenings to help, and I’m just … drowning. I feel like a failure because I know I’m sinking lower and lower and I don’t have much farther to go before I either get in the car and drive away, or stop getting out of bed in the morning.
I called my mother today. I told her I need to come home, with the kids, and camp out for awhile. I felt like a big, fat, 32-year-old failure who can’t handle the life she built for herself. But when she said to COME, and I heard my dad echoing her words in the background, I felt such relief. I have somewhere to run to, and as much I don’t want to be away from Husband, my sanity is at stake here. And as he kindly pointed out, right now my sanity takes priority over everything else.
Admitting I need help makes me feel like something is wrong with me. And yes, I KNOW, nothing is wrong with asking for help, blah blah blah, I shouldn’t try to do it alone, blah blah blah, everyone has rough patches, blah blah blah. It doesn’t stop me from feeling like something is wrong with me or my children, because isn’t everyone else coping just fine?
I never, ever would have imagined myself getting to this place. It’s not that I didn’t think it would be difficult to stay at home with two kids. I just didn’t think it would be so difficult that I wouldn’t be able to handle it. Of course I didn’t know that TWO would turn out to be such a CRAZY ASS baby (I feel really guilty for saying that), that Husband’s work schedule would be so grueling that I would feel like a single parent, (I feel guilty for saying that as well, because Husband works really hard so I can stay home), and I really didn’t have a clue how three-year-olds can be when you are with them all the time.
It’s hard to come to grips with these facts because I am transitioning from a professional career where I got paid good money to solve PROBLEMS.
It is humbling for me to admit that my current situation has broken me down completely. I mean broke. me. down. I know I shouldn’t feel guilty for feeling like I’m drowning in motherhood and I need someone to throw me a life jacket. I know I shouldn’t feel like a failure because I cried every day this week and only cooked things that came out of a box.
If someone else was telling me this story, I would assure her she was strong and capable and NOT a failure. But it’s not someone else … it’s me. I will always put pressure on myself to be better at whatever I happen to be doing. It’s what my therapist called “internal motivation.”
So here it is: I am internally motivated to go see my Mama. Maybe one day, when my boys are grown and I have recovered from the task of raising them, I can return the favor.