This is a rant. This is nothing more than a self-indulgent, cryfest, and since I don’t think things like this belong on FB, I am going to put it here where I feel like it is safe. You are more than welcome to not read beyond this. But I have to write… it is how I process, and this is here, so I am going to do it.
I am exhausted. I am exhausted in every aspect of my life. I am so tired of working three jobs. I am so tired of balancing every responsibility that comes with being a mother, a professional, an adult. I am so tired of feeling like I am not doing it enough or trying my hardest. I tired of feeling inadequate. I am tired of having a never ending to-do list and no matter how much I cross things off my list, for everyone that gets marked off… five more appear. I am tired of not being able to do something I would really enjoy because of the 10 obligations that take priority. I know that this is life. I know that every other person in this world feels like this at times and everyone has their bad days. Some just pour a little more wine at night…well my way of getting through it is writing it here just as fast as my little fingers can type and imagine that I am screaming from the mountaintops to get it all out. I have to. It is eating me alive.
I want to take a shower whenever I want. I want to actually be able to just go take a shower. Not have to plan it. Or not have to miss another day because I can’t physically put Turner down because he is crawling up my legs and clinched so tight to my chest that I have bruises. I want to be able to sleep in my own bed. Night after night I fight with Turner and he just refuses to do anything I want him to and I find myself sleeping on the couch, covered in the most perfect little human being’s sweat because it is the only way I can get him to sleep.
I want a clean house for more than 5 minutes. I want to actually clean my house more than a quick 15 min pick me up before company shows up. And this isn’t even Turner’s fault. I just mean the clutter, the junk mail on the counter, the pan from last night’s dinner and the never ending sink of dishes. I just want it to go away and stay away. By the time I get home, get dinner ready, get Turner fed and ready for bed, of course only after reading him his favorite book the mandatory minimum of 15 times, I have an ounce of energy left, and typically that is used to put on pjs… on the nights I even do that.
I want work to be easy. I want things to be outlined and not questions. I want a clear understanding of tasks and what things mean. I am SICK to death of stupid questions. And this is applied liberally throughout all of my jobs. If I get one more self-explanatory question, that could have been easily solved with a little common sense thinking on someone else’s part other than mine, I might physically explode.
I want things to work as they should. I want my phone to stop freezing for no apparent reason. I want my tablet to open the program I asked it to, and not go off on a exploration of the device’s inner being before giving me a word document. I can’t afford to buy new versions of these things, that are not even a year old, because they are failing to operate as they should. Just work. Just freaking work. You have one freaking job. Just do it.
I want people to stop being awful. It is exhausting watching so many people be so terrible all the time. Just stop. Be kind.
I want to slow down. I want to take time to enjoy right now. I want to stop thinking about that every weekend I have from now until eternity is already booked with work or some other obligation and just enjoy today. Enjoy this very second… well not this one because as you can tell it isn’t the most pleasant… but you catch my drift.
I want to feel like something I have done or something that I do is sufficient. Not even extraordinary, just sufficient. I want to feel accomplished, respected, accepted, sufficient. I want to feel like I am doing all of the things that I am doing, all of the things that are driving me insane and making each day a little harder than the last, that somehow it is all worth it. That I am working toward some greater goal and plan that will one day come to fruition and be glorious. While I am sure in an hour or two, I will certainly feel like that, but right now, not a chance.
I want a haircut. I want to have enough time to go get my haircut. I want enough time to go buy a pair of jeans that actually fit me. I want enough time to take Turner to the park. I want enough time hold Andrew’s hand and just talk to him.
I really, seriously hope that no one is reading this at this point, and if you are, I am so sorry that you wasted so much of your day on this. I just needed to vent, the breathe, and to feel something, even if is is a feeling of complete chaos and total loss of control and ambition.
But now, I have felt those things, and although I am certainly not cured of the slight feeling of drowning and self-laothing. I will take a deep breath, and continue about my day.