Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Lemon Zest, or Peppermint Twist

Some times there is nothing you can do but succumb to the hurt. I'll admit that I have let myself go since having my baby. It has been a full time job of simply trying to keep a miniature human being fed, clean, healthy, and mildly content. I'm also trying to keep a house clean, feed a dog and keep her active, feed a husband and provide clean/pressed work clothes, support coaching efforts, participate in my church, teach, be a sister, a child, and work enough to help with the bills. Along with this I keep hearing "Be sure to take care of yourself!"; usually said with a smile it's an absolute insult. Nothing makes me feel like more of a failure than having people point out that I have no social fulfillment, no physical fulfillment ( as in working out you perv's.), and no emotional fulfillment after a day of a screaming infant, irritated dog, and busy husband. I am alone in a house daily. I am TRYING to find time to do ANYthing for myself. You think I don't know that I'm falling apart? is it possible that it has escaped your reason that I don't actually enjoy looking like I just rolled out of a whore house?! I would absolutely LOVE to spend some time doing an intense gym work out, but if I DO have free time I get to spend it cleaning up the office so that I have a sanitary space for clients to be. If that gets done then I get to work on the rest of the house. Considering that I'm lucky if I can get a shower long enough to get soap on the "important" parts and get it washed off! I spend 90% of my shower holding an infant in a towel covered in soap. If I can get the soap rinsed off I feel like I had a good day. If I can get my hair washed it's even better! and that's just the shower. Imagine that kind of an event, and now think about trying to feed myself, or hydrate myself. . . No really, I'll give you a minute here to think about it. So, I've got an infant who is absolutely inconsolable if I don't have both hands touching her, and my undivided attention on her. Add to this a dog who NEEDS attention and activity as well. Heck I've spent almost 3 weeks composing just this far in the blog, and I type while my baby screams in her crib, and I sit on the toilet ( because some things should be done alone), and my dog stares at me from the door way. Please, tell me where in all of this I am supposed to go for a 30-40 minute run. Or have lunch with friends, or go bowling, or even just sit and not be screamed at or barked at. My mind wouldn't stop thinking about all the house chores, and laundry, and yard work that needs to get done anyway. My poor neighbors have been smelling the dog for almost 2 months because I haven't been able to get outside long enough to clean up after the dog. IF the grass survives the drought it'll still have to survive the suffocating dog mess out there. Sleep isn't even being mentioned because I don't know any parent who actually sleeps in the first year, good or impossible child. Do I have postpartum? According to the check-list at the doctor's office no. Would I say I'm feeling a little less happy, and far more sarcastically sadistic than normal? oh you better believe it. I laugh at my daughter when she cries. I'm pretty sure I'm making her a total psychopath by the way I just ignore that she's miserable so I can drink, or eat, or just give my arms and back a break. I've read all the studies, I've listened to all the experts, but what no one seems to realize when they say " be sure to make time for yourself" is that the only time I get is spend sleeping while I can. Which doesn't fill any of the other aspects of life. I watch from home as my friends live life! thank heavens for Facebook so I at least can see what is going on in their lives! I'm not saying I don't love my Daughter, I do. I love my daughter, my husband, and my dog. I am lonely, tired, frustrated, and aware that I appear to have "let myself go"; But please, before you try to tell me to find time for myself, or to take care of myself consider everything that is actually happening in my life. Consider that maybe, just maybe, there isn't time for me because all 24 of the hours in my day have been given to someone else.