A couple of weeks ago I asked for help.
When no one in my RL vicinity offered, I actually asked for help. With my mouth. Asked if my parents could look after Dex for a night.
And I got cranky. I didn’t even bother getting cranky at Grandad. How would he understand?
He was never the one who was there throughout our childhood apart from the happy moments. He always worked long and hard and when he had the time, played long and hard too.
I kept it inside. Thought about the unfairness of it all because I know if TD’s parents had the option they’d look after Dex in a flash.
I don’t understand why when I ask for help, no one sees what I’m asking.
Most days, I think I’m not cut out to be a mother.
I see the appeal of being a working mum. Go to work. Leave my child to someone who will look after them from 8:30am – 5:30pm. Because it is easier. Because that way, I will be able to have a hot coffee. To have a body that is mine. To not have children hanging off me every fucking minute of every fucking day.
To have an hour of silence. Where neither of them are crying, whinging, wanting something.
Neither of them are snatching things off each other.
I love my children, but fuck I get sick of them some times.
It hurts to write this. It makes me feel like I’ve failed. Failed at what I have wanted to do and be my whole life.
But no one told me it would be this hard.
Lola is still getting up 4 – 5 times a night.
A while ago I wrote this post on Dear Baby G. Nothing has changed really – except Dex sleeps in until about 6. Yay
I ask TD for help and he cleans. Which is great. And I know he works hard. But SO DO I.
I just want help with the kids. Take them, just take them for an hour so I can have an hour to myself.
All of my friends don’t worry so much anymore. I think I have fallen out of the circle with my anxiety enough times that they just let me float back in whenever but it’s not that big of a deal if I disappear. And I do try and stay in the circle. But Why does no one come visit me?
One of my friends told me that she just keeps waiting for it to get hard. And my heart broke a little. Not for her – I’m so happy for her, that she’s not feeling the way I am – but my heart broke a little because I must be doing something wrong.
I don’t feel like that.
I don’t see the value in myself. I don’t see why people would want to spend time with me. Fuck, I didn’t even bother spending my birthday money on me.
I’m just lost. Floundering. Trying to do the things that “good mothers” do. And I’m sure failing half the fucking time.