Have you ever done something that is so impossibly hard, but you did it? But then found out that it's not actually possible so you're embarrassed for trying at all? 

Yeah, that's me. I finally called to make an appointment with a local counseling office. Only to find out AFTER the stupid intake questions that include "why are you calling us" and then find out you can't actually afford that copay, because its over $100...

Yeah. Then you're embarrassed at answering all those questions. Of reaching out and asking for help. Because now they know you need it, but you can't afford it. But now you also can't hide it. Embarrassing to say the least. And then. When I put my phone down to just cry in embarrassment and frustration I accidentally called them back so they could hear me. Just kill me now 

I am miserable. My husband swears he doesn't think I'm a bad mom but constantly points out how "normal" people do things better than I do. And likes to constantly point out my flaws. 

I'm seriously to the point of wishing I would just die. At least then he could find a "normal" wife who could be a better mother to my kids. Or maybe I should give the kids to my friend who can't have them and go live under a bridge. I know she's a better mom than me and my kids deserve that. 

tired of being strong

I'm tired of being the strong one. I can't show my weakness to my husband, to tell him I'm tired of being. Of existence. I can't tell him I'm overwhelmed with the mountains of chores and daily tasks that no one really helps with. Not completely, always leaving half of it for me to finish. And fix the first half. I'm EXHAUSTED to the point that death looks like a relief. But if I try to share this HE goes into a depression and makes it all about him. And I'm tired of being the strong one. I'm tired of being the one who manages the finances and finds money to cover everything when someone spends more than the budget could handle (no one person, everyone does it) I'm tired of being the only one who folds clothes. SORTS CLOTHES. PUTS CLOTHES AWAY. Oh, you washed them? And then left several baskets of unsorted clothes heaped in front of the back door so your dad couldn't get in after work? Thanks. Now ****I**** am going to get YOUR lecture. ****I**** am going to hear about how MY idea of a sorting system is just in the way because YOU are too fucking lazy to put clothes in the sorting system. 

I'm tired of taking care of an ungrateful old man. One who talks badly about me to anyone who will listen no matter how hard I try.

I'm tired of never sleeping. Yeah, I signed on for another baby. So it's all my fault. Well fuck you and your judgemental self because IM ALLOWED TO FEEL EXHAUSTED WHEN I CANT SLEEP. 

You know what. No one would care about ME if I died. If I chose to just stop living. They would only see themselves. Oh woe is me. My mommy died. Oh woe is me, wife wife LEFT ME ALONE with all these kids I SAID I WANTED BUT WONT HELP WITH. 

Oh, it must have been MY fault, IM a terrible person. 

No one would even think "gosh, what must SHE have been feeling or going through that SHE thought this was the only answer?" 

My feelings and needs are invisible, but all my mistakes are on blast 24/7

late night ramblings of a depressed mind

Its funny what you think about in the middle of the night.
Apparently my love language is gifts. I LOVE giving people things.
See, I grew up in a home that after 1st grade or so, couldn't give much of anything to each other, let alone anyone else.
I used to wrap up little toys and dominoes and stuff and pretend to give them to my toys. Then, when I hit high school my grandparents started sending me a $20 bill in my Christmas card. I bought ALL of my friends Christmas presents. I mean, they were terrible, lol. Goodwill and the dollar store. But I always thought it was the thought that count.
When I got a job, my goal became to get the best gift ever. Like, to bring tears to the eyes because it was just so perfect. That moment, the one where my friend would tear up and hug me because I knew them so well. Priceless.
When I was pregnant with S, my baby shower was my very close friends and and my sister. I was 19, and about to be a single mom. My family did not support me in any way. When my second was born at 24, again, no family, not even my sister this time. 

And my 3rd? When I was actually married? Nothing. 4th. Nothing. It's not the gifts. Not at all. It's the lack of presence. No one came to show support. I felt like one of those little kids who had a birthday party and no one came. 

So now I tend to over compensate. When I'm invited, or even not, I want to shower that mother to be with my love and support. Because I didn't have that. 

Now, my mom is a jehovahs witness. Don't think this means she never gives gifts, not even close! She surprises us and they're amazing. It's more that I feel like I have to hide the gifts I give to my children for holidays or birthdays. Those moments used to be my time to shine. I used to feel so much joy picking out and making gifts for my family and so many others. Every person in our house used to get a stocking, adults included. And everyone got gifts. Everyone, even adults, used to get Easter baskets too. But now? Now I just don't see the point. I'm hiding the fact that I even celebrate these holidays from my mom. I don't get the joy from giving gifts that I used to.

I remember my last good Christmas as a kid. Turns out it was all thanks to toys for tots. When I got old enough to start donating to it, I did. When I married Eddie and we could adopt a family? Even better. I got to know I helped a family like mine, and no one ever had to know it was us. I felt like Santa. But somehow those things feel tainted now. Last year I sat and watched Jim Carrys rendition of the grind and sobbed my heart out. I miss Christmas. I miss Easter. I miss being able to enjoy birthdays. 

I don't know how much imof my depressive leanings is due to any of this. Or due to the upcoming birthday of my son. The fact that I have to do math to remember how old he would have been. It's like an arrow to the heart. The answer is 9, by the way. He'd have been 9 next month. 

dark days

I don't know if it's the time of year, my poor diet, my interrupted sleep, or something I haven't thought of, but I'm having a hard time right now. 

I feel like a terrible person, a terrible mom, and a terrible wife. I am so angry all the time. I find no joy in anything, even the things that normally make me happy. All I want to do is eat and sleep, and cry. 

I'm so unhappy all I want to do is cry. My heart is screaming "Help! HELP ME!" But I don't know what help I need. I don't know WHY I'm sad

run away

Have you ever wanted to just run away? I have. I remember being small and not being allowed to go further than the corner, so I'd pack my pink blanket with snacks and toys, tie it up and leave forever. Then get to the corner, unpack, eat, play, and curl up with my blanket. I KNOW my neighbor watched from her window until I got bored and packed up to go home. 

Once I had a driver's license I would just take a drive. Maybe to the ocean for the weekend. Maybe just the back roads until I felt calm again. 

But with 5 children it's hard to just take off when I'm feeling overwhelmed. And no matter how hard I try to leave another adult in charge and hide, they either find me or I feel so guilty for feeling this way that I go back. Still on empty, still overwhelmed, still on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 

When my husband gets to this point I send him off to his friend's house a few hours away for the weekend. He gets a break from the kids that's not work, and some guy time. Last time I sent him off, telling him he needed a break he said, "But what about you?" I told him "oh, I can go to B's house this summer, don't worry!" But then he pointed out something important. I don't go alone. I bring the kids. My littlest boys are BFFs with B's kids. If I tried to go alone there would be havoc. 

This last 2 weeks has been hell. G has been acting out, hitting B and destroying the baby's cans of formula (I literally do not produce even half the milk she needs even pumping for an hour every 3, so don't judge) and just doing every naughty thing he can think of. He needs me to watch him like a hawk, but I'm burnt out. I don't have the energy to chase ehim down, and baby gates no longer contain him. I'm emotionally exhausted and haven't had a single day away from children in 18 months. I didn't even get a Dat away when I had the baby since she was a home birth. I have had no more than a few hours away to run errands and get groceries. Not exactly a break. 

Tonight he ruined the 3rd can of formula this week. I am so mad I want to scream. I am so overwhelmed I want to get in my car and just drive. Drive away and stay away. Not forever. But for awhile. The churning feelings inside of me have me wanting to hurt myself to make it stop. 

See. We judge people, especially parents, for needing a break. I can't tell anyone how I feel, how desperately I need a few nights to actually sleep without being woken for food. To sleep without knowing if I didn't wait for G to sleep first he'd make messes. To sleep in as long as my poor battered body needs without the early to bed one waking me after just a few hours of sleep after the late to bed one.

I love my family, and I just need a few days without them to feel like a human again so I can dive back in. 

exhausted pideon

A friend recently posted a joke asking if people were morning larks or night owls, and mentioning that she was an exhausted pigeon. This joke caused a chuckle that turned to an exhausted sob. You see, that's where I am right now. I feel old and tired today. I don't know if it's the day, or how long and hard I have worked on things, but I'm having a hard time focusing on tasks that NEED to be done. I cannot seem to bring myself to work on my business, rather wanting to either sit idle or work on hobby tasks. Or when better, venture out into the spring sunshine and get my hands dirty with the plants I have purchased to make my home pretty again. But instead I sit and stare at a blank wall, too tired to do ANY of it, yet unable to simply go back to sleep. 

I know part of this is the poor eating of mine lately. And still more is the amount of work I HAVE done. But I think part of it is the bone deep weariness, and even loneliness I feel. It's been so long since I could go and sit with a friend while watching our children play. I want to cry some days at that emptiness I feel. But until I can feel that companionship again, I will nestle in my perch, the exhausted pigeon, working as best I can, and caring for my brood. 

Thoughts

I tried to tell my husband about the dark thoughts. But he kept interrupting before I could get to them so here I am. 

Not that anyone will ever read this, but just in case, I have no intentions of acting on these thoughts. I just need to say them out loud to get them out of my brain. 

I had a reduction done in 2010. Since then I cannot produce enough milk to support a baby, nor does it flow fast enough for them to nurse first then take a bottle. It literally takes an hour every 3-4 hours of pumping to extract it all. And even then it's not enough. 

I have serious body image issues and eat my feelings. Eating when tired and depressed has turned this into a serious carb addiction, and I mean that addiction literally. When I eat them it's like an addict binging on drugs or alcohol to the point of overdose. 

These two things lead to me hating myself a lot. Hating myself leads to me eating my feelings, which leads to weight gain, which leads to me hating myself more... well, you get the idea. 

In April of 2019 I started a keto diet and before I got pregnant had lost 80lbs. I finally liked myself. I could finally look in the mirror without disgust. 

During my pregnancy I was very very cautious about how much weight I gained because I didn't want to undo all of that work. I was 265lbs when I started the diet, and 189lbs when I got pregnant. I only gained 25lbs during my pregnancy and all but 5lbs was gone by 2 weeks postpartum. Unfortunately because of exhaustion I gave into my carb craving and have spiraled out of control over the last several weeks. This and pumping just enough to not get mastitis while I waited for my milk to dry up lead to a lot more self loathing. But it also lead to some very dark thoughts. I just need them out so I can let them go.

Many nights when I woke to painful engorged breasts I thought about cutting them off as they were worthless. During moments of sorrow that I couldn't nurse my rooting baby I imagined stabbing knives into them over and over again. Looking down at my flabby belly, once my uterus had shrank, and feeling the new layer of fat on my stomach that wasn't there before baby made me so angry I wanted to hit it. To hit myself, to pummel the part of me that feels disgusting and worthless. 

I just need to get these out. To speak the words. But no one will listen. 

Bow I just want to feel my sorrow in peace, no children interrupting every few moments with petty squabbles, minor "injuries" or demands to be fed, changed, watered, ect. I just need SOME TIME I can be left alone and not touch for awhile. But that will never happen. So I'm here, writing this in hopes that giving flight to this pain will make the burden lighter.