I’m drowning.
Which is weird, because I’m a lifeguard. And if I had to navigate my way through water, I’m sure I would be much better off.
Life, however, is a completely different story.
I have so much respect for every Single-Working-Mom. Honestly, I’m not even 3 months into a 12 month stint, and I keep bouncing between Gru, “I got it, I got it,” and Dierks Bentley, “what was I thinking??”
Between work, and life, I’m sucking. Not so much at work. But life? I’m sucking big time. Probably because I’m bad at multi-tasking–really bad, and rather than putting on my big girl panties and tackling what needs to be done, I hide in my blanket fort and hope it goes away. But it doesn’t.
It builds up and snowballs and gets worse. I have Fridays off from work, and from the moment the kids get on the bus to the moment I pick them up from after-school care, I feel like I’m running around like crazy and accomplishing nothing.
The week after Thanksgiving, in an attempt to be more productive, I would skip my lunchtime workouts, and would run home and get things done instead. It didn’t work. On the days I went home and tried to get anything done, I managed to accomplish next to nothing, and by Friday I was so stressed. Which is when I realized Terry the Tormentor is really my trainer/therapist, and if I wasn’t working out with him 3-4 days a week, I wasn’t de-stressing.
Which of course leads to tonight. I’m that kid that sinks straight to the bottom and stares up, hoping someone will jump in and rescue them. There’s no panic, there’s no thrashing. I’m just laying down there, quietly hoping someone will notice me.
I have a really hard time asking for help. I would rather silently sink to the bottom than let anyone know I can’t handle shit. Plus, who do you even ask? How does that even work? Help me, I’m drowning? How can you ask for help when you don’t even know how to help yourself?
Of course, now everyone will know that I can’t get my crappy together. Ladies and Gentlemen of the Jury, let the record show that this girl is a total train-wreck who can’t handle life.
And let’s be real here, there are plenty of women who do the single working mom thing year round, without an end date. I doubt they find themselves in tears every Thursday night, because of all they need to accomplish in one free day a week. Nah, they probably keep up with their shit throughout the week, and then don’t have to be overwhelmed by the 3,000 tasks they have laid out in front of them.
Let me tell you a secret–I switched internet providers 3 months ago. But because “return Spectrum router,” has yet to make it to the top of my list, I am still paying for 2 internet services. There’s so much wi-fi in my house, my wi-fi has wi-fi. Literally. This is the kind of stuff that makes you go, “what?!”
These are probably the same things that make Justin tell me to get it together. And probably make him worry that the Germany-style, debilitating depression has kicked in. I’m not there yet. When I start throwing out pots and pans, rather than do dishes, I’ll let you know.
I’ll quietly send out an S.O.S. in morse code, from the bottom of that pool, and hope someone can hear me…
