This is a purely self-centered post, and I’m not ashamed to admit that fact. I’ve had a rotten day, and, for whatever reason, writing helps. Do I expect anyone to continue reading beyond this sentence? Absolutely not. Do I believe we all take comfort in knowing someone else’s day was just that much crappier than our own, so we’ll keep reading? Absolutely. And that is, in my book, quite alright. I’ve done it. Many times. And it always tends to make me feel better if I’m able to offer some sort of words of encouragement, empathy or understanding. It also makes me feel better if I can simply have a giggle to myself and say “Wow.. it really sucks to be him/her right now, but I suppose that’s what he/she gets for being a dbag.” Is that last bit productive or even nice?? Nope. But, I can honestly say that no matter how much I try to be nice to every single person I encounter, even I have my breaking point. And today was that day.
It started in the middle of the night last night. I was sleeping– which as many of you that know me understand is a rarity– but at some point in the night, my apnea mask broke and decided to dig into my forehead. Uh, yeah, that hurt. I ripped off the mask and threw it across the room. Needless to say, the remainder of my sleep was quite craptastic. Then, I figured I could make it all better by having my regular morning date with Tread. He tends to make me forget about everything else except how my body feels. I decided to begin my intervals of jogging/walking as June isn’t getting any further away and if I’m going to be running that 5k, I need to start getting focused. I was into my third round of intervals when Tread’s belt decided it wanted to slip.
Imagine the scene– me zoned out– focusing on my breathing and proper form so as to not wreck my hips again– and all of a sudden.. WHOOOOOOSH goes the belt.. and down I go. I try to grab onto the bars to stabilize myself. Epic fail. So, I try regaining my footing– or at least step off the belt. Bigger Epic Fail. My foot gets on the side rail, but, apparently, that’s the side to which the belt decided to slip. The edge of my sneaker was still on the belt and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. Now I’m sideways, barely standing.. grasping at bars, the wall… instead I fall backwards off the damn thing and have to somehow avoid falling onto the child that was sitting on the floor next to me playing WII as I worked out. It was quite the two-step jig! I ended up on my rear with one foot on Tread and the other twisted somewhere behind me. Ouch. But I finished my workout– just without the jogging.
So, then, I had the battle of good vs. evil– or Kids rule, Moms drool. Apparently, attempting to instill values and a sense of responsibility are simply unacceptable objectives in this household. Apparently, chores are NOT necessary. Neither are respect, appreciation, self-control, acknowledgement, or compromise. The only acceptable course of action in this household is chaos.
Well– as I stated before– there’s only so much a person can take. I lost it. I screamed. I bellowed. I threw stuff. I removed every electronic device from their possession. I gave them MORE chores. I became Demon Mother. I was someone I had never seen before in my life. And I hated it. I had to remove myself from the household in order to keep myself from becoming physically violent, and while I am glad that I had enough wits about me to realize I was that far gone, I’ve never reached that point in my life. It was the most frightened I’ve been in forever.
Then I noticed they ate every single piece of candy from their Easter basket. Every. Single. Piece. In under 12 hours. SIX bags of candy. Gone.
That was the final straw. I blew my lid at my oldest. Somehow managed to get her to softball practice on time even though her father was late to pick up her siblings. I still have no idea how I didn’t wreck the car… or the two of us.
And that’s when the panic attack happened. I drove to work fighting back the tears. Got to work and saw my coworker and just spewed forth the days ridiculousness and then started scratching. Because everything itched. My skin was swelling in the strangest places. The top of my right hand. The inner forearm of my left arm. The left side of my neck. What a disaster I was.
And yet… my coworker listened to me cry. He listened to me beat myself up for breaking apart. He listened to me go on about how I am a failure at motherhood, relationships.. and pretty much everything else I attempt in life.
Then he told me to stop. That I had come too far to let go of my progress. That I have two choices– accept who I am, or change who I am, and at the end of the day– know that I’ve done what I’ve done to the best of my abilities.
Gosh, I love my friends. ❤
So, at the end of this horrid day, I can simply say– sometimes we need to break into tiny little pieces and spend the time it takes to put ourselves back together. The finished product may never look the same, but it’s one of which to be proud.