I’ve been thinking a lot lately about this blog and what it is still okay to say on it. I was thinking today about voice and lost mojo and keeping up appearances and stiff upper lips and not going on about stuff and being brave and life goes on ish and how, because the girls can read this and it is my business face as well as my personal face and the internet isn’t like it used to be… breathe…. it just isn’t so easy.
And you want to find a photo to fit the words because that is the way the templates of the blog work now and…. in all that, I got lost.
I am completely exhausted.
Here is how today went.
Bene woke me up at 4.30am and I didn’t get back to sleep.
I had a doctors appointment at 7am, so by 7.15am I had not only cried but also discussed my daughter and her anxiety issues and been told it couldn’t be grief because that’s nearly 5 years ago and she probably doesn’t remember unless we talk about it all the time.
By 8.10am I was in the car with Max, Bene, Fran and Amelie and Josie having negotiated a wailing boy and ascertained that Maddy was still too poorly for school. The morning also involved making one very pale, food anxious child eat something.
All had been dropped at 4 different places by 8.45am, including a long conversation with Josie’s teacher about her school refusing and anxiety.
I raced around at the unit for an hour until 10am, before realising I was just too tired and cold to stay there. This involved being bullied by a customer, among other things.
Went home and Maddy and I tried to get painkillers into the rabbits, who got snipped yesterday. By 10.45m I was at the vets, having realised that the one who tried to post operatively chew open his testicle yesterday, had one large, angry red looking bollock. Bollocks, I thought.
Between 11.30 and 12.30pm I was having my light bulbs assessed. Yes, really.
12.45pm, I frantically tried to sort out the available people and money and form filling for some people to go on a ‘hen’s teeth’ gymnastics judging course.
At 1pm to 3.15pm, I tried to fit in the 16 hours plus of work I’m behind on thanks to another week of sick kids, problems at work, school refusing children and so much stress that I’ve been reduced to a total standstill by panic over what is going to become of my children and my marriage if we go on like this. Hence the doctor’s appointment. Hello artificial serotonin.
3.30pm Collect Josie.
3.45pm Dash back to work after stopping at the supermarket to pick up gym dinner, print some forms, do 3-4 jobs I needed to do there. Stop briefly to hook other lost child up with their lift.
4.30pm Drop Josie at gym, try to organise some forms for the aforementioned course, get
5pm Realise the non eater of the morning is actually blue and goose pimply and shaking and clearly ill and not fit for gym. Wrap her up, collect husband, go home, leave completely raging, saying the word fuck a lot.
5.15pm Pick up Bene from nursery.
5.30pm Try to do some more of the work. Get hampered by a little boy who wants his mummy, a girl flaked out on a sofa and wishing desperately I had time for a conversation with the husband downstairs who is now cooking.
7.45pm Go out to collect girls from gym.
8.50pm Finally get away from gym.
9pm Stop at Tesco for milk.
10.25pm, Finally persuade Bene to sleep, after sitting in his room in the dark with him for an hour.
11pm Realise tomorrow looks no better and I am going to let an awful lot of people down this week unless I can magic something special out of 2 days already filled up with vets and banks and gym and children off school and…. I really want a bloody night off.
I’m so worn out. All the joy has gone; lately I’ve caught myself wishing we had stopped at 2 kids, not because 3,4 and 6 are not perfect but because then we would be nearly done and I might stand a chance of putting the time into my marriage it needs, relaxing before 10.25pm, smiling, thinking in a straight line or achieving anything meaningful, creative or good.
I’m making an almost go of freelancing already but I’m in danger of letting myself down because trying to get a predictable day is impossibly hard. Max and I are too exhausted to speak and everyone is unhappy. There is no joy, no let up, no relaxing and no fun. I have no time to make, do, blog or create.
I don’t even have the energy to cry. I have no time to have fun with my children.
Two weeks holiday a year is not enough. I have no time to dream. I barely sleep. I can’t switch off.
My family is falling apart and I am too utterly broken to know where to start fixing it. There is no easy set of options. I can’t work less without us plunging into difficulties. I can’t force the kids to give things up without feeling deep guilt and affecting their futures. And I’m absolutely terrified that Max and I are going to just drift into an exhausted haze of indifference that means we no longer know or care who each other are. We never have time together, not as a couple or a family. We never rest, there is never ‘nothing’ to do. It all feels, honestly, relentlessly miserable. And that’s before we start worrying about money.