Selfish Thoughts

I’m having another one of those “I can’t be a mommy anymore” days. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids, but I don’t love being crawled on, stomped on, kicked, hit, bit, smashed, scratched, screamed at, whined to, cried on, “clean me”, “feed me”, “change me”, etc. I’m so fucking done. I’m no good at this bullshit. Most days, I fucking hate it. 

I’m impatient. I don’t have it in me to deal with all the hair pulling, scratching, climbing…. I think you get my point. Days like this are really bad because I want to run away. I want to be selfish and heartless and just do whatever I want to do. But I’m not heartless. I can’t just abandon everyone. 

I don’t think I should stay. “But the kids need their mother!” No, they needs a mother figure who loves them and teaches them. I love them, but I’m a terrible teacher. I yell, I scream, I often can’t even hug them when I’m feeling like this. Being touched is overwhelming. You can’t reason with a toddler. Or a five year old. 

I want to be alone. I want to have my own place. I’ve never lived on my own. I only want to pick up after myself and make my space look exactly as I want it to and have it stay that way. I want to be able to sit out in my living room and watch a rated R movie (or an adult film…) without worrying if my kid(s) will walk in and see things they shouldn’t. 

I know, I know, I’m being incredibly selfish. I wish I had someone who would magically swoop in and save me from myself before I do stupid shit. 


Apologies & Explainations 

I’m sorry I haven’t been keeping up on the blogs of others. I would love nothing more than to have the time to read through my feed and like/comment/reblog your posts, but I barely have the time to write my own blogs. This alone has taken me two days at this point to write because I’ve had to keep putting my phone down to go about daily business. And then I forget I still haven’t finished it :/

I’m sorry I haven’t followed many of your blogs. I appreciate every follower I have and I mean no disrespect to you all, but I don’t follow back just to follow back. I will follow you if I have enjoyed your writings as much as you’ve (hopefully) enjoyed mine. In order for me to find out if I enjoy your blog I have to read it and, as I stated above, I barely have time to keep up with my own. 

As for my more recent posts, they’ve been rather dark because of my current life situation and this is my most comfortable and accessible outlet. Writing is what helps me cope. It helps me process. It puts me into the out (if you’ve seen the movie Home you’ll understand that) and I’m able to look at my situation from the outside rather than in. 

Yes, recently I’ve been struggling with suicidal thoughts and urges to self harm and even urges to run away and abandon everyone and everything, but I do get over these dark feelings…by writing about them. Why do I do it out in the open? So maybe someone out there who’s feeling alone in their own chaos may happen upon one of my writings and realize they are not alone. We all have demons to fight and crosses to bear. And I welcome anyone to reach out to me and talk. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger than to someone you see every day. 

So, to wrap this up, one day I will be a better, more attentive blogger, but bear with me because that day is not gonna be in the near future. 

Living in an Old World House of Hate

Living in this place is changing me. Not for the better. It’s undoing everything I’ve worked so hard to fix. It’s making me bitter and mean. It’s making me like her. 

I feel like I’m in an emergency room. There’s chaos and a wide range of emotions all around me. I flatline and feel the sweet relief of death, but the doctors and nurses keep reviving me. Each time they bring me back I try desperately to tell them to let me pass on, let me die, but I’m unable to communicate. I beg with my eyes, but they don’t understand. They just tell me everything will be ok then they leave me in the middle of the chaos until I flatline again. 

This is what I’m living every day. I just want to let go, but my few friends, my kids, and my husband keep me going despite me overwhelming desire to leave, I stay. The longer I stay, the more bitter I become. 

I don’t know how to stop this. If I’m not fighting with my grandmother-in-law I’m fighting with my husband or my kids. I can’t keep fighting. I don’t have enough care left in me to fight. I feel like I’m losing my battle with Life and Demons and I’m ok with it, but everyone around me keeps this tiny part of me going. It’s so tiny and weak, but this part of me keeps fighting even when I beg it to stop. 

I’m expected to do things that are not as simple as many would think. I just spent the better part of an hour standing in the bathroom with my two year old son as he “tried” to poop, but he already started pooping in his pull-ups so they were ruined and when we sat him down on the toilet he refused to push the rest out.

This is not the life I wanted. I am not built for babysitting pooping toddlers. I know they’re my kids, but being their mommy is the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. It’s not what I’m wired to do. But everyone expects me to do it with a smile on my face. Mostly his grandma expects that. 

I’m not good enough in her eyes. I never will be. I hate laundry and changing diapers and hearing “Mommy mommy mommy mommy” all fucking day long. I hate being needed so much. But I’m expected to just do it. 

I’m drowning and everyone is watching me, expecting me to swim. 

I’m Worried About My Son

I think the stress of living with my husband’s impossible grandma is taking a toll on my older son. He’s two years old and a rather sensitive boy. He’s been acting out by pushing his older sister, pushing and kicking the dogs, taking toys from his baby brother, and I’ve noticed his drawings have been changing. 

These two drawings were made a few days after we came here. 

This was made roughly two weeks after being here. 

And these were made just a few days ago. We’ve been here for three weeks. He’s been stabbing the paper with the pen and when I try to get him to draw happy faces he says he doesn’t want to. 

Maybe I’m overly concerned about this, but my sweet boy seems to be having trouble coping. I’m not sure how to ease his hardships. 

If anyone has any suggestions I would appreciate it very much. I hate to see my kids dealing with crap they shouldn’t yet know exist. 

I don’t understand why she is being so impossible to live with. I hate waking up every day wondering if today will be a good day or bad. Have I done enough chores? Will I get it right? Are my kids going to be perfect or are they going to be kids and piss her off? The list goes on and on (and on and on and on…………….) and I don’t know how much more I can take.