This is usually how it goes, right? Drop after drop in the bucket, day after day, month after month, and not so suddenly the bucket is too heavy to lift. Some call it a breaking point. I call it my current state.
Physically speaking, I'm bone-weary and for no good physical reason. Oh, except that I've been subsisting on 6 hours of sleep a night since February and I don't even have a baby to make it worth it or to afford me naps. I'm starting to see things again, too. Strain and sleep deprivation can do serious tricks with my vision. Black spots here, little moving things there. Fun stuff. The TMD -- I can't even go there. Jaw pain, ear pain, joints and tendons so tight it's like a rubber band about to pop. Sinuses, forget it. Constant pressure.
Emotionally, I'm unhappy. Simply put. I like my job, I hate working. I hate being away from home all the time. I hate that my kids irritate me when I finally get them home in the evening and all they do is whine about being hungry or bored or why do I have homework? Why can't you be home every day? Why do you have to work? And where is Daddy? Good question, sweetie. Dad is at work. I think he might be on his way home. No, honey, you can't break Daddy's building. He'll still have to work somewhere. Why? Well, so we can pay for the house and food and your toys. No, honey, you can't break the house either. See what I mean? Work, drive, pick-up, pick-up, home, dinner, dishes, bathtime, bedtime. And it's 9:30 and the boys are running like wild men. I'm really at a loss. A breaking point.
And this doesn't even begin to address this burning desire I seem to have about having another baby. Am I crazy? Yes, I really think so. But I do. And they're everywhere. Women having babies, being pregnant and I can't even think of having another one (even though I do) because we can't afford it. Because I'd have to quit my job because we couldn't pay for doctors and two day-care bills. And if I quit, we'd be back where we were -- broke, wondering how we were going to make the mortgage and buy groceries.
So, am I crazy? Yes. Am I borderline depressed? Not for long. I imagine I'll be fully depressed here soon. The boys aren't sleeping through the night, so neither are we. There is something seriously wrong with this family, but I don't quite know what. Except for the fact I am supremely unhappy yet hiding it oh so well.
One might wonder, where is your faith? Can't the Lord deliver you from such misery? Well, you see, there's the funny bit. The job was the answer to my prayer, or at least I think it was. I'm beginning to doubt my judgement. We were desperate, and I asked St. Joseph to give us the solution. I told God, tell me what to do. That afternoon I got a phone call from a friend of a friend, my company's hiring and so-and-so said you might be interested? I still can't believe they hired me. So the source of my misery, or at least from my perspective, is the answer to my desperate prayer. Take note of this and be careful what you pray for. Seriously.
But the funny thing is, we're not even getting ahead with my income! We're still treading water, what with daycare and gas and food spending up. We're not much better off than we were before I started working full-time. Which makes me want to quit, let me tell you. At least then the laundry would get done. Right?
So, this is my life. Not every day do I feel like this. Honestly. It just happens every once in a while, when things build up. Just writing this out made me feel so much better, if not a bit emotionally naked. But one of the purposes of blogging is catharsis, right? Not just mindless, self-involved chatter but therapy of sorts. I must get a chaise lounge for to blog from...