When we talk I am probably tipsy. You don’t know. I am a pro.
When I am at work I think of the goodness awaiting me at home in the freezer. It never freezes, but is always perfectly chilled. And you don’t know. Because I am a pro.
I would like a flask.
I can stop whenever I want.
I wonder can they tell? At work, can they tell that when they’re talking I’m thinking of a salt rimmed glass?
Can my kids tell that I am more fun when the red cup is near? Can they tell that I say yes more often, crawl around on the floor playing spies, let them do my hair? Am more energetic, can dance longer? Do they know this is bottle manufactured silliness?
Can they tell that when I am short and say no and lie down that it is the goodness wearing off? Can they tell that my lack of energy is the goodness’s down side?
Did they know the other day that I thought too long about leaving them home to go to the corner store because the freezer was empty? They pay attention to a lot, but they don’t know. Because I am a pro.
And I can stop whenever I want.
It makes me fun. It makes me happy. It makes me a bitch. It makes me sad. I am the life of the party. I can’t wait to leave this damn party.
But I could stop if I wanted to. Don’t I want to? I do. And I don’t.
Some days I tell myself I don’t need it. And I believe me. And as long as I am distracted it doesn’t dawn on me that I haven’t given in. Until it does.
I can stop whenever I want.
Promises of bedtime stories are not realized because I am asleep. Promises of raucous sex are cast aside because I am asleep. I wake up and want more. Yet I regret having fallen asleep before stories and sex and showering and I’m still in my work clothes. Funny. I thought I was a pro.
I am tired of being so tired. It makes me so tired. Seasonal affective disorder becomes seasonal affective disorder squared. It’s not doing anything positive for me. It’s not making me cope with the daily bullshit of working outside the home, not having enough money, parenting effectively, maintaining my marriage. And yet it remains.
I look forward to coming home all day. And then I can’t wait until bedtime. It is unfair to them. It is unfair to me. I wouldn’t rather have the glass in my hand, but I find the glass in my hand soon after I get in the door. How? How do I not remember the steps I had to have taken to get the glass, salt the rim, go into the freezer? It is rote. It is done unconsciously. It is frightening.
Everyone laments the time they are no longer able to do things. Please don’t tell anyone. I am no longer a pro.
I won’t tell, but I will hold your hand if you need me to.
Uhhh…..bartender, bartender! Cut her off!!! {points to Arnebya} :-)
I am sending you the biggest hug.
This is one of the hardest parts to face, and you did it.
You can do anything.
Thanks, Jenny. Some days I believe I can do anything. And then others…eh. I know I’ll keep trying though. At least there’s that. And what’s funny except not really funny b/c I’m not laughing, is not what I wrote, but people’s response to what I wrote. It’s gonna get interesting.
I’m not brave enough to write about this part of the journey. But you are, and you nailed it.
You need to talk to Heather Westburg King. She writes the Extraordinary Ordinary and she is on Facebook. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met and she has been through all of this.
It took a lot of strength to write this. You have it in you to quit. This community is strong, but it can not help you if you do not let it. Email me if you need someone to vent with. I have not been there, but I’m a damn good listener.
Confessions are necessary, I had to make one myself this morning. Let us (your readers) know what you need. I know it sounds silly, but sometimes another person believing with you for change can make all the difference in the world. Wish I could hug you.
Such a rough thing you are going through. Sending you prayers of strength!
Dear Whatnowandwhy,
On a similar note,, P&A is one class, and I’ll be taking both at the high school level. I want to go into nursing so they’re kind of a necessity.
Thx.
What a well-written post. So well-written.
Thanks for visiting my blog today, and best wishes on your new journey.
I admire your courage for writing this. You can do it!
How brave of you to write this. And yes, what Jennifer said (I don’t know Heather personally but she seems like an amazing woman and I enjoy her blog) and what SavvyPracticality said. I wish I could hug you too. You can do it. You can do it. You CAN do it.
The hardest thing to do is to admit it out loud, and you have done that. I wish I could hold your hand or hug you in real life.
THere are so many communities here, Arnebya: and I think things will get better b/c you are building a community with us.
So many times we are pulled to other ways to alleviate what we’re missing: but now you have people here, who care and know and understand.
Really: support and belonging fill such a huge void.
You’ll see.
Also: pls get to know and read the back archives for maggie dammit. She is incredible. You’ll get lost at her blog forever. Also read ellie at one crafty mother. Especially this post: You’ll get lost at her place, too
http://www.onecraftymother.com/p/about-me.html
Hi, I found your site through Scary Mommy. I’ve been where you are in this post — it’ll have been 3 years in just couple of weeks in fact. If you want to talk, give me a hollar – I’m on Twitter shweetmamajae
Hang in there and stay strong.
Jae
Thanks, Jae.