(Written last night after a particularly hard day)
For as long as I can remember, to my very earliest memories and forever since, so often my first thought each morning after being jarred out of sleep by an unforgiving alarm was “Dear god, I’d rather be dead then ever have to get out of this bed again.” And ashamedly, it was not meant to be a humorous desire or a silly exaggeration. Sleep has always been my favorite part of every day, my reprieve. So it has always been a genuine consideration, a brutally raw and bloody morsel of my honest to god truth. (Something I probably should have considered more seriously when choosing to have a baby.) And one I totally feel vulnerable sharing. Scratching and clawing my way out of unconsciousness and facing another day here in this world has always been a bit arduous for me. And I don’t always think it’s accurate to say the shit that has made some days harder than others have made me stronger. I suspect the opposite sometimes, that I’m just worn down because of them. A little more deflated, a little weaker and jaded and tired with a little less motivation than I had when I started.
But even still: my bones have petrified, my skin is leathery and withstanding, my sturdy but delicate paper heart is doing it’s job without bitching and moaning. (Quite unlike me at the moment.) I think I’m just tired right now. Really tired. I feel like I haven’t really slept in...how long? Too long if I don’t remember, right?
Or maybe life has just been a struggle lately. Because it totally has. Even more than what I’d gotten used to the last few years. And just as things should have started getting easier too. Life laughed it’s evil ass off at our plans. You’ve experienced that too, haven’t you? Hasn’t everyone? Please say yes.
My daughter cried for 40 solid minutes of the hour-long drive from her daycare to home today. I have so little patience left for this overpopulated city. I hate that she’s having to spend so much time in the car lately. I hate that this was the closest place we could find with 3 days notice (but so damn grateful we found SOMEthing). I hate that this unexpected transition has been harder than I’d hoped though quite what I expected. And I absolutely fucking hate everything that’s happened recently-the utterly unplanned for bullshit-that has put us here, in this precarious and shitty position. If I’m anything but tired lately, it’s angry and probably a little defeated. So when Mina cried for 40 solid minutes in rush hour traffic in a car I couldn’t escape on a road with a million and one other assholes, I cried too.
P.S. Don’t send sympathy or contempt for my seeming lack of gratitude for the things that I do have. (Because gratitude is something I have proudly learned to cultivate nearly every damn day). I just needed to vent about how hard and expensive and frustrating parenthood is right now with so few to rely on for help, but how absolutely risky it actually is to have to rely on anyone for help anyway, a move we never ever should have made in the first place.
As my mom repeated to me countless times growing up: Becky, you can never count on anyone but yourself.
P.P.S. This little girl’s eyes are starting to look like mine now in the sun. We are slowly beginning to see little traces of her in me. It still doesn’t feel real sometimes, the love I carry for this tiny soul who beamed into our lives from god-knows-where.