Friday, May 8, 2015

One Fish, Two Fish, Three, Four, Five

I blog when I'm emotional. It keeps me honest. I don't like to hide behind polite so no one gets hurt. People get offended. If we spend our whole lives hiding our feelings so that we don't offend someone else's sensibilities we will drive ourselves insane. I have been trying for months to make my house MY home. Not anyone else's. Regardless of who lived here before it is mine now. I don't get out much. I spend 90% of my day tending my daughter, cleaning my home, attempting to get paperwork for my business done, Seeing Clients,and make sure my Husband is taken care of as well. I deal with a never-ending pile of laundry. I attempt to cook meals that satisfy both nutrition, and the picky tastebuds of a toddler. I have to master the madness and insanity that is cleaning a house with a toddler. I rarely leave my house. Not because I'm anti-social, or because I don't like people. I work from home to make things easier on my family and ensure I see more of the profits so we can actually afford to have a family. I get kicked, bitten, and hit most of the day. I do my best to not lose my temper, and I've never struck my child while I try to stop the hitting, kicking, and biting. I hurt. I'm carrying another baby and I can't imagine it's enjoying the kicking, and hitting, and biting of my abdomen from 8am - 4pm when my Husband gets home and suddenly we have a perfect little angel again. I never really sleep. I'm in a constant state of fight/flight with my eyes shut so that I can hear when the dog needs to be let out, the baby needs to be rocked, and anything else that has to be taken care of in the middle of the night. It may not seem like a big deal but maintaining a yard with a dog; when everything makes you sick to your stomach the thought is enough. After cleaning up dog poop everyday I get to stand in the heat and try to encourage my child to explore, and discover whilst attempting to not get so sick from the heat that I lose the little bit of food I can keep down. Most women get out of the house with their little ones. With the tantrums, and hitting not under control I haven't been able to do that. Plus there's the budget to consider. You have to have money for dinner out, a babysitter… you get my point. Plus having the time to go out. My profession means that I have to work when other people get done with the work day. I rarely get to have an evening off. I know, I know; I'm a mom I signed up for this. You're right. I go with my Husband on Saturdays to watch Him play Australian Football which actually means that I get to be a responsible parent and chase a toddler around missing the entire game. I miss a great bonding moment and relationship builder with my Husband to make sure my child doesn't go running into the street. I run my home on 3-4 hours of sleep that is constantly interrupted. Adding to this my profession. After giving to my child and trying to give to my Husband all day I get to give to clients. People think that it doesn't take much emotionally to give a massage. They recognize the physical demand, but they fail to see the emotional. Therapeutic touch has intention. Good intention to be specific. You have to be willing and able to constantly emit, and embody positive. By doing so you give that to the person needing to be healed. You give to them physically the strength needed to lengthen tissue that is short, and break through scar tissue that inhibits movement and life and has created pain. You give the emotional understanding that is needed to be worthy of the trust they have placed in you, and the positive thoughts so that the client can let go of the hurt and heal. The only time I actually get to myself is the 10 minutes when I drive from the babysitter to my client, and then another 10 minutes when I drive from my client to the babysitter. I sit in the rocking chair in the baby's room in the middle of the night rocking a crying child while fighting back tears of both exhaustion and discouragement. I get 1 "real" shower a week. The rest of the time I get my body washed, and pull the hair up to try and hide the fact that it hasn't been washed in almost a week. While other mom's are chatting it up at the gym; I'm saving money so we don't go over budget. I used to dance. I was that girl you could catch very unabashedly dancing with the mop and vacuum. Unfortunately Ballroom isn't exactly the style of dancing that's bumping in the clubs these days. I have accepted that all of this is what I signed up for the day I decided I wanted children. It doesn't; however, change the fact that it is still very taxing on a person. To give and give and give, to hold back who you are inside. To keep comments, and thoughts, and feelings to yourself because you might damage a relationship that is important to someone you care for. To bite your tongue so hard it bleeds, and then smile while swallowing the blood to keep the peace. To not have anyone approve of you no matter how much you know that if you were to actually be yourself they'd think the polite person you're being for them is SO much better. With out a proper way to cope you just sort of implode. you start burning up from the inside out and die. I feel like I'm dying. The friends I did have are now distant friends. The hobbies I had are gone because there's no time for them and the responsibilities I have at home. I get asked all the time why I don't do things for myself. When? Between attempting to convince a child to eat solid food so I don't have to be up every 2 hours at night, and the laundry which my Husband needs done so He can go to work and keep us in a home, and the clients spaced out through the whole day, and the bathrooms that need to be cleaned, and the washing machine that needs to be repaired, and the weeding that must be done, and the child who needs love and attention to learn, and the dog who needs attention and grooming, and the meals that have to be prepared, and the groceries, and the church callings… please tell me when I'm supposed to do something for me and still get enough sleep to build the baby growing inside me. I give up. I am done trying to make friends, or keep friends, or any of it. I try, and try, and try. My Husbands friends are the only people I know anymore. I had friends. Dear friends. People I knew would be honest with me even if I didn't want to hear it. People who treated me like family, or so I thought. Now I have a list of needs that have to be filled to keep everyone's lives around me enriched. I am aware I signed up for this when I got pregnant. I just thought I might get a little bit of time to myself here and there. more than a 10 minute drive between the babysitter and my house. I thought I would still have time for my friends. I am beyond exhausted. I am spent. Why do I blog when I'm emotional? Because if you asked me this when I'm standing in front of the people I have to keep up a performance for I'd never tell you that I've given up. I'd give you a sweet answer about being tired, but that it's all worth it. You'd never know that I felt dead inside. That I dread certain interactions because I just get to sit there running an inner dialog so that I don't embarrass my Husband, or hurt the feelings of those close to Him. It's The kind of dead that happens when you're not allowed to express your real thoughts about anything because it will offend someone you're supposed to be getting along with for your husbands sake. Because " you know He could go pretty far if you'd learn to keep your mouth shut.". So this is me. Keeping my mouth shut, and killing the person I am so that everything is the way all those people expect it to be.