In all honestly, I wrote this blog weeks ago. Before the Miscarriage. Strangely, things have been better since then. But the emotions were real, the sentiments were real, and it would be dishonest to let this post sit and gather dust when it was so VERY real to me.
Please know that I’m not in that same dark place I was in when I wrote this. While I haven’t gotten any sleep, I’m still feeling quite good. I think some of you mothers may relate to this, if even only a little.
Cheers!
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My life defeats me.
Why is this shit so hard?
I can’t figure it out.
Is it hard for everyone?
Or just for pussies like me?
I can’t get out of my own head.
I can’t stop thinking about things that upset me.
I can’t handle all of the things I’m supposed to handle.
How do I not make people mad at me?
I want to be the best at everything.
I want to take the best pictures.
Be the best sonographer.
The greatest mom.
The awesomest friend.
How do I fail at everything?
LAUNDRY NEVER ENDS.
It defeats me.
I can’t stand it.
Why can’t I get up off of the couch?
Why can’t I do the dishes?
Why haven’t I gone to get groceries today?
What is wrong with today?
FUCK YOU, LAUNDRY.
Is it possible to fail at EVERYTHING?
Not good enough.
Never good enough.
My house is constantly disgusting.
How to people keep a clean house?
It’s not my kid.
My house was disgusting before I procreated.
I can’t even find the time to WATCH TV SHOWS.
Plan a baby shower?
Something for Brock’s 30th birthday?
ARE YOU SERIOUS?
Keep my house clean.
Do the laundry.
What for dinner?
It has to be healthy.
Something good for the kid, even if we eat like shit.
Overwhelmed, overwhelmed, overwhelmed.
Is there something more than this?
What am I missing?
I JUST VACCUMED YESTERDAY.
Crap everywhere.
I look around and want to cry.
I don’t dress well.
I never do my hair.
Make-up about once a week.
If I’m lucky.
Should I care more than that?
I need to get out of this house.
I don’t want to go anywhere.
It’s easier to stay.
Where is the motivation to get things done?
Please nap, please nap, please nap.
Mommy loves you, but she can’t stand you right now.
Cry, cry, cry.
Don’t cry, mommy.
If I don’t call you, it’s not because I don’t love you.
I want to shut my brain off.
I want to shut it all down.
I don’t want to think, and feel, and hurt.
Who is a success at life?
If you have everything you could have ever wanted, are you still a failure?
It just feels like failure.
Heavy, heavy, heavy.
Pressing down on me.
I was supposed to be better than this.
I am what I am.
What now?
