I know I’m not the first person to go through this. I feel like that should be capitalized. THIS. This slump, this depression, this irritation boiling just under my skin and scratch, scratch, scratching. I’m so ready for a change, but stuck in the same loop of can’t-do-this-because-of-that and oh-that-sounds-great,-but…
It started with a change in my work hours. I used to be on the day shift, 6am-2:30pm, but then things went sideways when the other two temps got hired and I was left all by my lonesome. Because of the timeframe window of when certain shipments come in, the higher-ups decided to change my hours to 10-6:30, which is okay in theory, but it turns out really, really sucks for me. I’m up at six all the time anyways since my oldest munchkin is in school, and by the time she’s on the bus, my youngest is up and needing food and clothes for the day. I get her settled, take the dog out, and then scramble to get myself ready for work. I spend all day feeling completely worthless since I only get to do what no one else wants to do and just a handful of people who work with me directly even know my name. Then I get to come home, immediately launch into making dinner, checking homework, fixing plates, scarfing down my own food, feeding the dog, and making sure the kids are showered for bed, getting them into bed (always fun with a toddler), cleaning up what I can/have energy for, and then crawling into bed myself to start it over again a few hours later.
Rinse. Cycle. Repeat. Yep, that’s my life.
I’m not allowed to complain about work, since the future Mr. has a job that truly is worse than mine. However, he also has four to five days off per week. He often has hours where he can do whatever he wants. And does.
Do you know what I could do with four or five days off in a row?
Good Lord, I have dreams of it. I could read a book. I could write until an entire train of thought has reached its conclusion. I could clean the entire place. I could actually do those things I pin on Pinterest while I’m pooping and pretending the dog Isn’t scratching at the door, the kids aren’t arguing, and that no one else has changed the toilet paper roll yet again or told me that we’re down to two squares in the main bathroom and hey, maybe that should be added to the shopping list that only I ever seem to use or do.
I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t stressed, or anxious, or worried. That I didn’t have a knot in the bottom of my stomach or feel like my whole life was unraveling right before my eyes and I have no idea how to grab onto the stands and braid them back together before whole pieces of me are lost.
I love my family. I do. But entire weeks go by with me feeling like none of them see me as an actual person who might need something from them, too. And then the guilt of that thought sets in, and the shame of it.
I’m a mom. I’m a woman. That’s what we do. We make things better for everyone else and pretend we have no idea why we cry at sappy movies.
Maybe I just need to watch Rocky instead. You know…if I ever get the time.