A noise was invading the nothing thoughts I had. Nothing. Blank. Staring into the void of my mind and loving every second of it. But it was being disturbed. Invaded.
It was the draining of the bathtub. It was loud, pervasive, long. Long. It was only filled with enough water to clean a 2 year old and her 1 year old bath visitor, but still, it was long.
Then I looked into the mirror and saw what’s been gnawing at me for some time. I have dark circles. Not what you wake one day to find, knowing you were up too late the night before. Not the ones creeping in gradually over time. These appeared one day, etched into my skin, into my realization of just where I am in life; where I’ve been; where I’m going. They appeared one day, darkened, permanent.
The draining stopped. All I heard was the clicking of the clock.
In that moment, an epiphany. The draining of the tub sounded so daunting, so unequivocally undeniable because it represented me.
I promised myself when I began this blog that I wouldn’t sugar-coat anything.
I didn’t want to present as myself as happy, put together, having everything all figured out if it weren’t so. I’ve read blogs like that, articles, talked with others. In the end, I always came away feeling inadequate, uneducated, unworthy of being a parent, being his parent, being their parent. I always felt as though I’m doing everything wrong, haven’t done enough, checked enough leads, spent enough money, worked hard enough, understood enough, learned enough, adjusted, that I just am…sigh.
Daily, I am ashamed that I’m not the mother of the year, certain I’ll “mess” my kids up, very aware that I don’t have the energy or know-how to be Molly Miss Perfect Homemaker. So, I will whine, as now, from time to time, more than I ever used to, more than I wanted to, more than I ever thought I would. But this is reality. My reality. Maybe even your reality.
There are many times I feel as I do now; and now, honestly…I’m drained. I’m draining. As listening to the bathwater, I’m not sure when it will end. I’m not sure if in the end, the clock still ticks or something else replaces the draining. I’m not sure what happens to me, my husband, my children when all I have to give is gone. That frightens me; perplexes me on a daily basis; it brings tears to my eyes now.
Right now, I’m thinking that it wasn’t supposed to be this hard. Every stink’n day is HARD. There’s always some piece, somewhere in the day that’s difficult. It doesn’t even have to be with Alex, just someone, somewhere is making this trying. Everything is a struggle. Everything is a fight. Nothing’s right. Everything’s wrong. And should ½ of the day be okay, the next week will surely be hell.
I’ve recently found that my brows are in a constant squeeze, chomping at each other in worry, consideration, contemplation. I try to keep things together. My happiness is in moments, seconds sometimes. But it’s in that moment, in that second, for I always know there is a short time for the next struggle to begin. I don’t know how hard or long it will be, only that it will be. It will always be.
Maybe this is all rambling. For that, I apologize. I want your readership, your comments, input and inspiration. But, in the end, this blog isn’t for that either…is it? That’s not the purpose…it’s for that one of you out there that needs one of us mothers to admit that we’re not okay. That I’m not okay.
It’s for me to admit to you that I don’t have everything put together. That I am struggling. That it’s difficult for me to dish out ‘advice’ to a friend when I am lost in my own life. It’s the connection of the reality of life. To say I have no idea where I’m going or how I’m EVER going to find the strength to get there, or how I’ll get there in one piece.
All this to say…it’s not supposed to be this hard!
Jannie Funster (5)
Michele t. (4)
Secret Mom Thoughts (3)
Accidental Expert (2)
Lisa (2)
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Nope. It isn’t.
Don’t you think that there are days that I cry out and ask why? I feel so inadequate, I have yet to post a picture of myself. I am positive sometimes, that I am horribly, irrreversibly harming the spiritual, emotional state of my children. I feel like a control freak most days, hammering away at routines and education.
In fact, now you are going to make me write a blog about how my blog got its name. If it wasn’t for these blogs and the connections I feel with them, I don’t know what I would do.
Thanks for not sugar-coating anything. Thanks for making it the raw, real, and naked truth.
Why do we alway feel like we have to be so perfect? I totally relate to this post, that why I write the way that I do.
Great post!
Hugs and Mocha,
Stesha
Judielise~ Thank you. There are so many times I feel like either I’m the only one crazy enough to admit it, or I’m the only one that feels this way. I know neither can be true, but sometimes we can all feel like we’re on our islands alone. I can’t wait to see your post. Thank you for being so honest!
Stesha~ Perfect. Yes, it’s funny we all try to get to that, but absolutely none of us IS that. Any one person we think might have it all together, probably really doesn’t…which is hard to remember when you’re still trying to obtain it anyway!
I wonder why we worry so much about being perfect. There is no perfection, yet we strive for it, malign ourselves because we can’t obtain it and recognize it’s impossibility and still pursue it.
We aren’t supposed to get everything right. I don’t think there is any parent that could describe or agree on what is “right” as the rightness changes with the circumstance. It’s hard to raise a child – any child. It’s hard to be a mother. It’s hard for a woman to be all things to all people, but we still try to do that and we quite often lose ourselves in the process. We wake up and look in the mirror and we see someone we don’t recognize because we’ve been so busy taking care of everyone but ourselves.
You do the best you can. And when you know you’re doing the best you can with what you have, with all your heart, you let the imperfections go… You let all the doubts and worries and fears slip down the drain…because you’re doing your best every single day and some days your best will turn out be wonderful and some days it will turn out to be less than spectacular, but you’ll be giving it your all and that’s all you can do. And don’t forget to treat yourself with the same kindness that you would treat a dear friend…
I remember the day my girlfriend from Canada phoned to tell me me how it was going. Her child was one year old like my son Michael. “This is really, really hard” were her words back then. I concurred. Things are still the same at some point of every day. That’s life. And yeah time is draining away. Not only that, but the older we get, the less of it we have, and the less time we have, the faster time and entropy pull us ahead. So every day at about 5:30 am I wake up, lace on my running shoes and beat up my body and mind for about seven miles. (It’s my morning serotonin-dopamine cocktail).I try to evaluate every one of my perceived screw ups of the past day.”Why did loose your cool so fast just because Michael didn’t pick up his clothes after the first request?” Did you really need to drill sergeant your way around the house?” The kid’s are going to need years of therapy…And by the way I saw a photo of you the other day and YOU ARE NOT AGING WELL.” Some days I realize that I am being way to hard on myself and other days I really have to face the truth. And that can be harsh.We are absolutely not alone here people. So I try to recalibrate on a daily basis. I try to live in the moment, absorb all this life stuff. Extrapolate the blissful moments (and they can be found in each and every day) without letting them hurt too much. The lesson that I learned from my wonderful mother who passed away this Thanksgiving, is that a truly honorable mother is never perfect. There is no such thing. Perfection lies embedded within the love, the kisses, the hopes and dreams, the mistakes, the fear, and yes the dark, permanent under eye circles that belie the whole story.
Talon~ You’re so right. I don’t know why we pursue something that has been and always will be unobtainable. I will remember this, and give myself the room to do the best I can:
“when you know you’re doing the best you can with what you have, with all your heart, you let the imperfections go… You let all the doubts and worries and fears slip down the drain…because you’re doing your best every single day and some days your best will turn out be wonderful and some days it will turn out to be less than spectacular, but you’ll be giving it your all and that’s all you can do.”
Michele T.~ “a truly honorable mother is never perfect” Your late mother was very wise. Thank you for sharing her words!
No, it isn’t….and yet it always is. Sometimes I want to take medication just go get through. (hugs)
Kristi~ I hear that!
Isn’t Talon amazing? Let’s just pretend I was the first one to say all that stuff she wrote, okay. She is so wise. She has sure been in the trenches too. And is a wonderful friend.
I have not been down so much lately but I want you to know I am thinking about you, and have missed coming to your blog. That’s why you’re seeing me here exclusively tonight. Catching up. And glad to “listen” to you, even if all I can offer is “there is no perfect.” And you will find renewed strength.
Maybe go out in the woods and scream real loud a good few times.
And beautiful writing, by the way, equating your life to the draining bath. Once in a long while, but not recently so I need to try this again, I used to lie on my back in the tub until every drop drains out, there is something so cathartic about that.
Luckily tubs fill up again.
Jannie~ Talon is an amazing person for sure. I’ll pretend that you both sat together and decided how to respond to my rantings. After I scream in the woods, will I feel relieved, silly, or like no one heard me anyway (as in the tree falling)….(smiles). I have since picked myself up and moved ahead.