10 minutes later, after several broken conversations, the repair man asks me something that needs my full attention. Just then, Eliza screams for help from the bathroom and the boys begin an all out brawl in the kitchen right next to the dish washer. I lost my temper, yelled at the boys to go to their room, and the repair man, softly and apologetically, asked "Do you want to call your husband so I can talk to him?"
And then, like any sane person who has their shit together, I began sobbing. I called Michael (from the bathroom because Eliza was now full on screaming for help) and told him that he needed to take care of this.
I should be able to watch my kids and talk to an adult. I should be able to have the house cleaned and ready if someone arrives. I should be able to control my emotions enough so that I don't make a repair man feel uncomfortable with my tears.
I should, but I don't
After he left, I didn't plan an outing or set up any events for the day. I didn't play games or sit and read to my children. I didn't clean the bathrooms or wash laundry.
After he left; I sat and watched as my kids tore the house apart.
*I wanted to leave and go pick out fabric for the blankets I was going to make the kids, but the thought of loading up into the car seemed too daunting.
*I wanted to organize Eliza's new doll clothing and finish the loads of laundry that add up, but all I could focus on was that they would still be there (even bigger) tomorrow.
*I wanted to take the kids out to lunch someplace with a play place, but thinking about talking to someone I don't know (even to order food) exhausted me.
*I wanted to go to Target to get some groceries for an exciting new dinner I'd come up with a few days ago for the family, but I just didn't have it in me to move from the couch.
The day drug on and I grew angrier with myself for wasting a day. As a person who's always suffered from depression and anxiety, when something goes wrong... I can't always turn the situation around. And then, I dig myself an even deeper hole with self loathing.
The kids ate food, they played non-stop, they laughed, and overall will most likely sit at our dinner table tonight and tell dad they had fun; however, I won't recall that day, my day was very different. And the thought of a wasted day with my children, upsets me deep in my gut.
As 2 o'clock approached I stood up and announced we'd go for a walk. I checked that my yoga pants were presentable enough, put on Michael's hoodie, and helped each kid put on their tennis shoes. I was going to leave this house.
As we walked and the kids played, I snapped a few pictures, because it was a moment I needed to be reminded of. And yes, I did post my photos, because I needed to share my win moment. Today, after 4 hours, I won and got up and got out of my house. In years past, these moments were few and far between; so if posting on social media, and looking at my memories serves as a reminder to me, then I'll keep on doing it. When old posts pop up on my feed, not only do I get nostalgic, but I'm reminded of events and times that I had and gave myself reasons to get up and get moving.
In truth, we don't need to entertain our kids or drive them all over to be good parents. The skills my kids learn, when left to their own devices, are greater than half the stuff I can teach them. While I wasn't fully engaged or interacting with my kids at the level I generally deem as "being a great mom," I wasn't a bad mom. I was there, not my best, but I was there. While I didn't play games with them or read to them, I sat and watched as they made up their own games and listened to Beckett as he read to his brother and sister.
I know my mental health should be something I'm constantly working on, and it is. Six summers back, I would have sat there for hours and then days; not watching TV, not playing on my phone, but contemplating what I should do and then convincing myself not to. Then, evening would approach and the guilt of my wasted time would get to me and I'd hate myself.
I work on myself now, more than ever. I work on myself for my babies. I acknowledge when I'm dipping deep into an emotional state that is best avoided and I find my outlets. I write. I run. I take deep breaths and count the beautiful living souls I've created.
I try to give myself rest days and I make sure to connect with people who lift me up. Above all, I forgive myself for days like today and I acknowledge the me that is deep inside. The me that wants to melt into her bed and grow forever stagnate. Because, she too is apart of me. And, though I fight with her daily, she is what makes me the compassionate person that I am.
So, I post pictures of my kids hiking, walking, playing at the museum, and running around the zoo because I wear those activities like a badge of honor. I'm not just proud that I get all three out of the house, I'm proud that I get out of the house and that I am able to be present in their lives.
No comments:
Post a Comment