It sounds very selfish I know.
But with so much going on it would be nice if someone asked how I’m going.
And actually wanted an honest answer not just “Yeah alright thanks”.
It feels like every time someone asks me something lately it’s for something or about someone else.
I get to my parents house after they’ve been with Dex all day and Dad yells at him about something – telling him he’s intentionally standing on Lola’s doll to break it – and I cut in with no he isn’t trying to break it he just likes the feeling of things beneath his feet and doesn’t register what it is and I get interrupted and told “no he’s been good all day just let us do this.”
Because what the fuck would I know.
I’m not the one being woken up all night.
I’m not the one that is going to have to go hours and hours of therapy disguised as play.
I’m not the one who’s going to have to force my child to do things he isn’t going to like doing because eventually it will increase his self esteem.
I’m not the one with the child who comes home and tells me that his friends don’t love him.
I’m not the one with the son who tells me his body feels alive when it’s hurting.
What would I know?
Because I’m definitely not exhausted.
I’m definitely not having a major time adjusting to working 30+ hours a week and running a family.
I’m definitely not up until 12:30am every night just trying to get all the shit done.
I’m not the one who’s freaking out about being without a car for the entire month of February because apparently pretty much rebuilding a car (new boot, bonnet, roof, turrets, bumper bar, dent removal and complete respray) is cheaper than writing it off.
I’m not the one who is sick at the moment and freezing and my eyes are burning and my throat hurts and my head feels like it’s about to explode.
I’m not the one who asks for just a little bit of fucking help but it might interfere with something.
I can’t put them into childcare until I know I get the manager’s position.
I feel like I can’t do a lot of things right now and no one fucking cares.
Just tell me what to do and how to parent.
Tell me how I feel and what I’m thinking.
Tell me it will be fine and I’m overreacting.
Roll your eyes and say “Oh jessica” when I actually get the shits.
Why the hell not.
It’s not like everything has changed.