I don’t know where to start or what to say. What I do know is that I am barley holding it together. I feel like at any moment, the last thread of my saneness is about break and I am going to come undone. Like, I can visualise my body is held together by string and that thread is unravelling causing all of my muscles and tissue and veins and organs to plop out all over the floor. My eyes will fall out as will my hair, strand by strand, and all that will be left of me is a saggy bag of empty skin and a pile of bones.
To be frank, I am not coping.
I am completely overwhelmed and I don’t know what to do. Everywhere I look I see shit. I pick up the same shit 10 times a day. Yesterday I went to the shops and bought a heap more cupboard latches so I could secure every single fucking cupboard and draw in the GD house. You know how everyone says how great it is to leave the Tupperware cupboard in the kitchen unlocked so your baby can have heaps of fun playing with all the plastic? NO. Just no. Whoever said that obviously wasn’t pregnant and could still bend over and touch their toes. It is not fun. No more Tupperware for you. No more pulling all the tea towels out of the tea towel drawer. No more decorating your room with nappies. No more flying pencils from the stationary drawer. No more. No more. No more. Except for the fact that I have been too exhausted to actually fit the latches, so yes, 1 more day. Then NO MORE! Today I think I am just going to leave all the stuff all over the floor and see if the floor fairies help me.
I cry. I cry all the time. For anything.
T throws some food – I cry. K lies about doing all his homework – cry. D says, ‘how are you feeling today?’ – cry. Evil 2 year old pushes T over in the change room play area (because let’s face it, that is the only place mums can relax for 5 minutes while out shopping) – give child’s mother a glare and then cry. Find empty packet of mint slices in the fridge – cry. Fold pile of washing for the 5th time after T pulls them back on the floor – cry. Of course, if I was actually a decent housewife, I would be able to pull the washing off the line, fold it and put it away before T woke up. But I’m not. I’m a shit housewife and I leave the growing pile of washing to be folded on the daybed for T to spread over the room 597 times first.
I cry in the car, I cry while I am shopping, I cry while I am having a coffee. I’m crying right now.
This morning was the worst for me. So I’m pretty bunged up in the back passage. I’ve already been to the toilet 386 times and can’t move my poo. I can feel my arse full of shit but it won’t come out. I am thinking that this is partially because I am horribly constipated, thank you pregnancy, and partially because I can’t visit the loo alone. I can’t concentrate and to relax on the dunny is what is needed. I secretly want to punch D in the face each time he goes to the toilet (alone), closes the door (peace) and his shit falls out like rain falling from the sky (sweet relief). I would give my left boob for some rain poo.
But I digress… So this morning I went to try and poo for the umpteenth time. Of course T accompanies me. He unrolls all the toilet paper, constantly tries to play with the toilet brush, pulls open all the drawers and throws nail polish onto the tiled floor. Yes, I know. Just put the GD latches on! I will, I will! I’m trying to deliver a poo baby while pleading with a 1 year old to stop this, stop that. After going for the toilet brush for the third time, I yelled at him and threw my hair brush (which I was holding after he tried to stick it between my legs into the toilet).
I scared my baby. His bottom lip went out and he looked so hurt. He wailed, I wailed. I scooped him up and we sobbed together on the toilet. Poo stayed in. Again.
I feel like such a horrible mother at the moment. I’m yelling at my baby? WTF? Who am I? I hate myself so much right now. I don’t even know who I am. I have K and D telling me constantly how much they love me but I am just a wreck. I can’t talk to D about how I am feeling because I can’t verbalise it. I just cry.
I feel like I am nothing more than a failure. I can’t keep my house tidy, I’ve lost my patience with my children, I’m not bringing money into the household, I don’t cook, I’m lazy, I look like shit. What is going on?
I am finding it really hard to deal with what I am going through because I don’t feel like I have the right to be ‘going through’ anything. I love my family more that life itself and I am so incredibly thankful for my husband and the children I have, especially after how hard it was to conceive T, I have not forgotten that. I am so lucky and happy to be pregnant again with the daughter I longed for. I feel so guilty that I am struggling. I shouldn’t be struggling, I should be thankful, and I am, but… I don’t know. I just don’t know what to do or how to get out of this feeling. It is like everything is on top of me and there is too much to do, so I don’t know where to start. All I want to do is sleep. I forced myself to stay awake while T had his nap today and cleaned my en suite which felt good to accomplish something but an hour later I felt like shit again.
What is wrong with me? Is this just pregnancy hormones or is it some kind of depression or am I having a breakdown? Am I just not cut out for this role?
I hate seeing my domestic goddess friends on Facebook posting the beautiful gourmet meals they cooked their families and reading their status updates on how they cleaned their entire houses until they sparkled, did arts and craft with their kids, gave themselves a mani/pedi, had romantic dates with their spouses and still had time to take the kids to the park or the beach and put on make up. Not a man toe or grey hair in sight. FRIENDS – this is not a dig at any one person, just collectively as a group you are all kicking my pathetic domestic butt. I fail on all accounts.
Why am I feeling like this? I love my husband, we are happy. I love my children. I am happy to be having another. Why am I crying? Poor D does not know what to do or how to help me. What can I do? I would eat more chocolate but the mint slices are all gone.
No picture to go with the post. Just a sad face 😦
I did by the way, end up on getting the poo out of my butt. After T went to sleep for his nap I was able to relax and out she came. I almost needed an episiotomy but the relief was good.