Okay, dear readers, I need some help.
With some crises firmly behind me, I'm working hard at thriving. I'm trying to live my best life, fully aware as I am that I only get one life, and that there is only the present. "Tomorrow" is not time to be happy, or to get things done. Today is the only day.
So, with that in mind, I'm exercising again, hoping that it will give me an extra boost. I'm getting up at 4:45am most days in order to exercise from 5am-6am, because there really isn't any other time of the day except bedtime, and by then my motivation is shot AND I really want to wind down, not amp up. From 6am to 9pm, my minutes are booked with mothering and working and basics like making dinner, so 5am it is.
I feel great. And I feel awful. It hurts to laugh, which makes me laugh. I'm pleased that I've made the commitment, and that I'm following through. I roped two girlfriends into joining me - which wasn't difficult, because I said "here's what I plan to do" and they asked if they could join me - so in the morning when I'm lying in bed hearing the alarm, there's no chance that I will turn it off and go back to sleep, because they show up at my house 15 minutes after the alarm goes off. We either work out in my basement or go for walks around the neighborhood; I don't feel comfortable driving to the gym because that would mean leaving Katherine alone in the house. (For some reason I am okay with the walks around the neighborhood, because I'm closer and on foot... Katherine knows when I'm doing a walk, and I always have my phone with me, and she's fine with it....plus she's sound asleep at the time. She's nearly 10 and very responsible, but I still only feel kind-of okay with it. In any case, I've decided that I must make peace with it, or never work out, and since I really want to be my best self, I must move this body of mine.)
But here is the dilemma.
My day is now booked from 4:45am to 9pm when Katherine has lights out and I fall into my own bed and am asleep the second my eyes close. That would be fine, except that I don't know when I have time to do the deep living that I desire so much. When can I write? When can I sit on the sofa holding a hot mug of tea and staring at the trees outside? When can I go to a play, a movie, or dinner with a friend? When can I deliver a meal to a sick friend? When can I put up the Christmas tree, go holiday shopping, or create holiday cards and send them?
I do not want to hear that I just have to let it all go. It is all well and fine to work out, get homework done, eat decently, and pay the bills with my job, but I want, deserve, and NEED more.
How on earth will I date with a schedule like this? My divorce is final in mid-January, and by spring I'd like to put myself out there, meet some interesting people, have some adult conversation (ranging from politics and art to the other kind of "adult" conversation, eventually), and take some steps towards meeting someone that I could spend the rest of my life with. But how can I fit it in? By 9pm I just want to sleep!
Last night I saw the movie "Lincoln" - a beautiful film that had me on the edge of my seat, holding my breath, hoping and hurting when it looked grim, even though I knew the outcome. (Slavery is ended in American forever - hurrah! Lincoln is shot, nooooo!) It was something I'd been hearing people rave about, and I was excited to go, and to spend time with an old friend. But the problem is that it's a two and a half hour film, so I didn't get home until close to midnight, and so today I feel like I have the flu and I just ran a marathon and my head doesn't work properly and I feel clumsy and out of sorts....and I'm at work today (and blogging here, but not feeling too guilty because I'm salaried and putting in extra time) because I'm trying to catch up since Katherine is at her dad's and this is our busy season.
It shouldn't make me feel like this to simply push myself to go to a movie and sit in a chair staring at a screen. It really shouldn't.
So, dear readers, please tell me how you do it. Encourage me, please. Is this feeling because I'm just waiting for the exercise high to kick in, and it's still too new and my body hasn't adjusted? I am not the only single working mom who exercises, and surely the others out there find time for girlfriends and dates and movies.... sometimes? I have a ton of creative energy right now, ideas flying through my head left and right, but I honestly do not know when to sit down for long enough to sort them out. Where is the "living" time, where I get to thrive and pursue dreams, and not just make it from day to day with relatively clean laundry?
Suggestions? Ideas? Encouragement? I refuse to merely survive. I just refuse it. I intend to thrive, all the way. I know if it was easy, everyone would be doing it, and the world would be a different place. But I am convinced I can do better, that I can keep tweaking my life to give it the shape I dream of.
Advice? Ideas? I can't wait to hear from you!
Showing posts with label fatigue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fatigue. Show all posts
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
With rest, hope returns
Last week was, I believe, the hardest I've had since deciding to divorce.
An armed gunman within blocks of my daughter. I don't have answers for that one, and I'm not sure I can even bear to ask the questions. There could have been an alternate ending there, too.
No, I won't go there.
But last week was hard because I was tired. Not "oh I had a restless night" tired, but "it hurts to open my eyes and my thinking is muddled and if I drop something then the effort of having to bend over to pick it up makes me want to cry" tired.
I have followed through on my promise to myself, and I've done precious little this weekend but care for myself. On Friday I had that dinner with friends, and though I didn't cry (I worried I would), I did crawl onto their sofa and pull a blanket up around myself, and they let me. They cared for me in a way I needed, more than I can say.
And yesterday I slept in. I puttered around the house, tidying the things that had been bothering me all week but that I'd been too tired to manage. I went for a walk with a friend, my dog joyful to put miles under his feet. This friend's words and wit always act as a balm for me, and being with her was restful, even as we exercised together. We were in nature, and that helped, too, and I got to see where the great heron feeds. I turned down invitations to go out with friends, and I curled up alone, first in a hot bath, and then with my laptop and blog, before going to bed at a decent hour. It's nearly ten in the morning, and though I'm on my third cup of coffee, I'm still in my bathrobe.
Ahhh. Rest.
With rest, I feel the return of my sanity. I was losing it last week, and it didn't feel good. Some of it couldn't be helped (an armed gunman? really???!), but some of it could have been.
This is where the realist part of me helps the optimist in me.
I let myself believe last week that my life was on a long track to feeling that bad all the time, that being separated/divorced meant that I'd never catch up, that I was going to be wiped out forever.
Ridiculous. I'm peeved at myself for allowing myself to wallow like that.
The reason that last week was so hard is because I made it harder than it needed to be. Yes, being a single mom is hard, and yes, events in my community were horrible, but still, I made some mistakes last week, and I'm going to try to learn from them. It didn't need to be that hard.
I wasn't overwhelmed last week because I was separated, or a single mom, or a working mom. I was overwhelmed because I didn't manage myself well. Readers, please, don't think that I'm beating myself up and wearing a hair shirt over this, because I'm not: it is surprisingly liberating to make this realization. It's not that everything is spiraling out of control, it's that I just need to take control back. PHEW! There is hope in that, a great deal of hope. Identifying the problem allows me to tackle the problem. What a relief!
Yes, there are still big problems out there that don't have resolution. Money. Time. The car. (The car deserves its own post. I'm not ready to go there.) Loneliness. Sex. But I'll get to those, one by one, and keep on going. Right now, I'm just so unbelievably happy that I don't have to repeat last week's fatigue every week for the rest of my life that I could do a little happy dance, and I'll tackle those other problems later.
So, here it is. My mistakes, and what I can do to make them better in the future. Oh, yes, I'll screw up again, but at least if I know what to do, I won't screw up as often.
Mistakes:
1. I came home too late from my little vacation. We weren't in bed until after 11, on a night before school and work, and that meant that we had to start the week from behind. Lesson: ALWAYS home by 8 on a school night. It makes the next day so much better, and if it's the beginning of the work week, it makes the whole week so much better. Starting from behind is not a good idea - too much catch up.
2. One night I couldn't sleep, so I let myself stay up until 1am watching shows on Hulu. I knew better. I really need sleep to function (and I have a self imposed bedtime of 10pm), and shortchanging myself this way wasn't good for me. The short term benefit of veging out and getting some time by myself was in no way compensated for by the way it made me drag for days afterwards. (Want to read more about happiness and sleep? Gretchen Rubin's Happiness Project has a great article here.) Lesson: In bed by 10pm.
3. Because I was tired, I didn't get up early to exercise. Not only did this make the dog sad (I don't belong to a gym, it's usually the dog and I walking/jogging/running/hiking), and make me feel a tad guilty, it actually made me feel worse. Being out under the sky, moving my body, and getting that early morning alone time to start my day makes me feel alive and good. Crawling out of bed late, unexercised and rushed, just makes me feel bad. Also, when I exercise, I sleep better. Maybe if I'd exercised, item 2 wouldn't have been an issue. Lesson: Get up, put on running shoes, grab dog, and go.
4. I was tired, so I ate like crap. No home made salads with spinach and avocado for lunch. Dinners that I barely remember. Too much cheese. This made me feel....worse. Lesson: Fruits and vegetables. Lots of them.
5. I let the house fall apart last week; I was pulling my undies from a laundry basket, not a drawer, and I really, really hate living like that. I feel peaceful when my home is orderly, and last week, I let it fall apart: the pile of unopened mail, the unvacuumed carpet, the smear of toothpaste in the sink, the tornado that is Katherine's room, and those big baskets of laundry all made me feel "off." If I'd spent two miserable hours at the beginning of the week dealing with them, I would have felt better for the entire rest of the week. Lesson: When my house is tidy, my brain feels tidy. It doesn't have to make sense, it just is, and working with it makes everything better.
6. I had some big deadlines for work, but I was mentally tackling some of the move-out logistics for Bryan. I got nothing accomplished by worrying by thinking of the move-out issues, but it weighed on me and made me slower at work, which made me feel worse. It would have been wiser to set aside time to actually DO something (my new plan: pack a box a day for the rest of the month) than to think about it obsessively while doing nothing, freeing up my head for full focus on work. Lesson: Obsessing hurts. Taking action helps.
Live and learn, and here I am. I am determined to take action to make this week better. I tried the lazy way - moaning "but I'm just so tired!" - last week, and it ended up being a relatively horrible week, where I felt at the bottom of my own ability to cope.
This week is a new start. This is not the most exciting weekend in the world, but it was the one I needed. I'm not leaping into lakes, or attending gallery openings, or hosting marvelous parties, or taking a class, or changing the world, but I am restoring my soul, and if that allows me to have a better week next week, with its long to-do lists, then so be it. I'll do those life-affirming things later, too...just not this weekend.
Readers, what do you do that makes your life harder? I know I'm not the only one who knows better but makes mistakes anyway. What are your default mistakes when you're feeling worn down?
What do you need to do to make your life run more smoothly? What do you recommend that I do to make my life run more smoothly?
Do you, like me, find that everything just feels pessimistic and frightening when you're tired? What do you do when that happens? How do you manage?
An armed gunman within blocks of my daughter. I don't have answers for that one, and I'm not sure I can even bear to ask the questions. There could have been an alternate ending there, too.
No, I won't go there.
But last week was hard because I was tired. Not "oh I had a restless night" tired, but "it hurts to open my eyes and my thinking is muddled and if I drop something then the effort of having to bend over to pick it up makes me want to cry" tired.
I have followed through on my promise to myself, and I've done precious little this weekend but care for myself. On Friday I had that dinner with friends, and though I didn't cry (I worried I would), I did crawl onto their sofa and pull a blanket up around myself, and they let me. They cared for me in a way I needed, more than I can say.
And yesterday I slept in. I puttered around the house, tidying the things that had been bothering me all week but that I'd been too tired to manage. I went for a walk with a friend, my dog joyful to put miles under his feet. This friend's words and wit always act as a balm for me, and being with her was restful, even as we exercised together. We were in nature, and that helped, too, and I got to see where the great heron feeds. I turned down invitations to go out with friends, and I curled up alone, first in a hot bath, and then with my laptop and blog, before going to bed at a decent hour. It's nearly ten in the morning, and though I'm on my third cup of coffee, I'm still in my bathrobe.
Ahhh. Rest.
With rest, I feel the return of my sanity. I was losing it last week, and it didn't feel good. Some of it couldn't be helped (an armed gunman? really???!), but some of it could have been.
This is where the realist part of me helps the optimist in me.
I let myself believe last week that my life was on a long track to feeling that bad all the time, that being separated/divorced meant that I'd never catch up, that I was going to be wiped out forever.
Ridiculous. I'm peeved at myself for allowing myself to wallow like that.
The reason that last week was so hard is because I made it harder than it needed to be. Yes, being a single mom is hard, and yes, events in my community were horrible, but still, I made some mistakes last week, and I'm going to try to learn from them. It didn't need to be that hard.
I wasn't overwhelmed last week because I was separated, or a single mom, or a working mom. I was overwhelmed because I didn't manage myself well. Readers, please, don't think that I'm beating myself up and wearing a hair shirt over this, because I'm not: it is surprisingly liberating to make this realization. It's not that everything is spiraling out of control, it's that I just need to take control back. PHEW! There is hope in that, a great deal of hope. Identifying the problem allows me to tackle the problem. What a relief!
Yes, there are still big problems out there that don't have resolution. Money. Time. The car. (The car deserves its own post. I'm not ready to go there.) Loneliness. Sex. But I'll get to those, one by one, and keep on going. Right now, I'm just so unbelievably happy that I don't have to repeat last week's fatigue every week for the rest of my life that I could do a little happy dance, and I'll tackle those other problems later.
So, here it is. My mistakes, and what I can do to make them better in the future. Oh, yes, I'll screw up again, but at least if I know what to do, I won't screw up as often.
Mistakes:
1. I came home too late from my little vacation. We weren't in bed until after 11, on a night before school and work, and that meant that we had to start the week from behind. Lesson: ALWAYS home by 8 on a school night. It makes the next day so much better, and if it's the beginning of the work week, it makes the whole week so much better. Starting from behind is not a good idea - too much catch up.
2. One night I couldn't sleep, so I let myself stay up until 1am watching shows on Hulu. I knew better. I really need sleep to function (and I have a self imposed bedtime of 10pm), and shortchanging myself this way wasn't good for me. The short term benefit of veging out and getting some time by myself was in no way compensated for by the way it made me drag for days afterwards. (Want to read more about happiness and sleep? Gretchen Rubin's Happiness Project has a great article here.) Lesson: In bed by 10pm.
3. Because I was tired, I didn't get up early to exercise. Not only did this make the dog sad (I don't belong to a gym, it's usually the dog and I walking/jogging/running/hiking), and make me feel a tad guilty, it actually made me feel worse. Being out under the sky, moving my body, and getting that early morning alone time to start my day makes me feel alive and good. Crawling out of bed late, unexercised and rushed, just makes me feel bad. Also, when I exercise, I sleep better. Maybe if I'd exercised, item 2 wouldn't have been an issue. Lesson: Get up, put on running shoes, grab dog, and go.
4. I was tired, so I ate like crap. No home made salads with spinach and avocado for lunch. Dinners that I barely remember. Too much cheese. This made me feel....worse. Lesson: Fruits and vegetables. Lots of them.
5. I let the house fall apart last week; I was pulling my undies from a laundry basket, not a drawer, and I really, really hate living like that. I feel peaceful when my home is orderly, and last week, I let it fall apart: the pile of unopened mail, the unvacuumed carpet, the smear of toothpaste in the sink, the tornado that is Katherine's room, and those big baskets of laundry all made me feel "off." If I'd spent two miserable hours at the beginning of the week dealing with them, I would have felt better for the entire rest of the week. Lesson: When my house is tidy, my brain feels tidy. It doesn't have to make sense, it just is, and working with it makes everything better.
6. I had some big deadlines for work, but I was mentally tackling some of the move-out logistics for Bryan. I got nothing accomplished by worrying by thinking of the move-out issues, but it weighed on me and made me slower at work, which made me feel worse. It would have been wiser to set aside time to actually DO something (my new plan: pack a box a day for the rest of the month) than to think about it obsessively while doing nothing, freeing up my head for full focus on work. Lesson: Obsessing hurts. Taking action helps.
Live and learn, and here I am. I am determined to take action to make this week better. I tried the lazy way - moaning "but I'm just so tired!" - last week, and it ended up being a relatively horrible week, where I felt at the bottom of my own ability to cope.
This week is a new start. This is not the most exciting weekend in the world, but it was the one I needed. I'm not leaping into lakes, or attending gallery openings, or hosting marvelous parties, or taking a class, or changing the world, but I am restoring my soul, and if that allows me to have a better week next week, with its long to-do lists, then so be it. I'll do those life-affirming things later, too...just not this weekend.
Readers, what do you do that makes your life harder? I know I'm not the only one who knows better but makes mistakes anyway. What are your default mistakes when you're feeling worn down?
What do you need to do to make your life run more smoothly? What do you recommend that I do to make my life run more smoothly?
Do you, like me, find that everything just feels pessimistic and frightening when you're tired? What do you do when that happens? How do you manage?
Friday, June 1, 2012
Taking a breath
This weekend, I will have a chance to catch my breath.
Today, I will do my utmost to hit some work deadlines (or have to catch up on the weekend), and then I will run for the bus home, then jump in the car to pick up Katherine from a friend's house where she's having an after school playdate, and then go to friends' home for dinner.
These are good friends, they know me, they understand me, and they will let me put my feet up on their sofa as our daughters play and they will offer me wine and let me cry a bit if I need to, but more likely they will make me laugh.
And in this way, I will make it until bedtime, and then I can collapse.
I wasn't expecting this level of fatigue. Some of it is physical - I really am on duty ALL THE TIME, as my beloved daughter can't seem to fall asleep before 9:30pm and I have lights out at 10, so from the moment I rise to the moment I go to bed, I'm a whirling dervish of activity. Household cares, feeding us, taking care of the pets, much work. In that brief half hour when she's asleep, I run around tidying, getting ready for the next day. Or I try to read, and feel guilty the whole time because of the things being left undone.
I've screwed up twice this week, and I'm ashamed. I forgot Katherine's piano lesson last night. I could blame it on the long weekend - oh no, it's not Wednesday, it's Thursday! - but it's really because I'm not thinking straight. And then I was pleased with myself because I remembered the big school event and prepared Katherine for it, but on the bus on the way to work I saw a friend's Facebook post about crazy hair day.
Katherine's hair is neatly brushed today. It is not crazy. This will make her sad. Like me, she likes to celebrate every little thing, to get into things, and she will be at school with un-crazy hair.
For some reason this made me want to vomit.
There is no time to vomit. I will remain proud that I served a meal, at the table, that included vegetables, last night. That we called both sets of grandparents. That homework was completed. That I read a chapter of her book to her. That I did not crawl into bed in my clothes and tell her to go away I was too tired to do anything. That I got up and made her breakfast, packed a lunch, saw her off to school with a hug and an "I love you." That I made it to work where, after I hit "publish", I will bust my rear end all day.
But this weekend, I just need to be quiet, to do nothing, and somehow get a bit caught up, too. Hopefully Bryan and Katherine will be having a good time, but I'm just going to try to regroup, so that on Monday I can do it all over again, but maybe without losing my mind.
I've been doing this for a while now. I think I'm terrified of the impact that Bryan's move will have on Katherine, that I'm terrified about money, that I'm terrified that I'm falling too far behind on everything and will never be able to catch up. It's all catching up to me. Maybe this weekend I can make it better. Maybe.
Happy Friday, dear readers. If you'd like to vent in the comments about your own lives, it would make me feel less alone, and maybe release some of your own tension, too.
Today, I will do my utmost to hit some work deadlines (or have to catch up on the weekend), and then I will run for the bus home, then jump in the car to pick up Katherine from a friend's house where she's having an after school playdate, and then go to friends' home for dinner.
These are good friends, they know me, they understand me, and they will let me put my feet up on their sofa as our daughters play and they will offer me wine and let me cry a bit if I need to, but more likely they will make me laugh.
And in this way, I will make it until bedtime, and then I can collapse.
I wasn't expecting this level of fatigue. Some of it is physical - I really am on duty ALL THE TIME, as my beloved daughter can't seem to fall asleep before 9:30pm and I have lights out at 10, so from the moment I rise to the moment I go to bed, I'm a whirling dervish of activity. Household cares, feeding us, taking care of the pets, much work. In that brief half hour when she's asleep, I run around tidying, getting ready for the next day. Or I try to read, and feel guilty the whole time because of the things being left undone.
I've screwed up twice this week, and I'm ashamed. I forgot Katherine's piano lesson last night. I could blame it on the long weekend - oh no, it's not Wednesday, it's Thursday! - but it's really because I'm not thinking straight. And then I was pleased with myself because I remembered the big school event and prepared Katherine for it, but on the bus on the way to work I saw a friend's Facebook post about crazy hair day.
Katherine's hair is neatly brushed today. It is not crazy. This will make her sad. Like me, she likes to celebrate every little thing, to get into things, and she will be at school with un-crazy hair.
For some reason this made me want to vomit.
There is no time to vomit. I will remain proud that I served a meal, at the table, that included vegetables, last night. That we called both sets of grandparents. That homework was completed. That I read a chapter of her book to her. That I did not crawl into bed in my clothes and tell her to go away I was too tired to do anything. That I got up and made her breakfast, packed a lunch, saw her off to school with a hug and an "I love you." That I made it to work where, after I hit "publish", I will bust my rear end all day.
But this weekend, I just need to be quiet, to do nothing, and somehow get a bit caught up, too. Hopefully Bryan and Katherine will be having a good time, but I'm just going to try to regroup, so that on Monday I can do it all over again, but maybe without losing my mind.
I've been doing this for a while now. I think I'm terrified of the impact that Bryan's move will have on Katherine, that I'm terrified about money, that I'm terrified that I'm falling too far behind on everything and will never be able to catch up. It's all catching up to me. Maybe this weekend I can make it better. Maybe.
Happy Friday, dear readers. If you'd like to vent in the comments about your own lives, it would make me feel less alone, and maybe release some of your own tension, too.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
So tired
Today I am so tired that it hurts. Literally.
This is not an optimistic post.
I do not know how I will make it until bedtime on Friday. Bryan has Katherine this weekend, and I may stay in bed all weekend without showering or dressing.
Reality is that even on the weekend I have obligations - grass mowing (and getting the lawn mower fixed...what the heck is wrong with it?!), packing up some kitchen stuff, catching up on bills, getting ahead on laundry, or at least caught up, calling my mother....
But it hurts to think about it. Ibuprofen is not touching this headache. I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep.
This is not an optimistic post.
I do not know how I will make it until bedtime on Friday. Bryan has Katherine this weekend, and I may stay in bed all weekend without showering or dressing.
Reality is that even on the weekend I have obligations - grass mowing (and getting the lawn mower fixed...what the heck is wrong with it?!), packing up some kitchen stuff, catching up on bills, getting ahead on laundry, or at least caught up, calling my mother....
But it hurts to think about it. Ibuprofen is not touching this headache. I just want to sleep and sleep and sleep.
One foot in front of the other
Yesterday was a tough day.
In addition to the horrors seen in the media (which hit WAY too close to home), I had to exchange email with Bryan about move out dates. He keeps wanting to push the date back: for me, it's a rock solid date, but he has suggested date after date after date, later and later dates. This puts me in the uncomfortable position of having to reject him over, and over, and over again.
Just to be clear: I don't think he wants to be with me. He's not asking for love, romance, or even companionship. I just think that he can't bear the idea of moving out. I don't blame him for not wanting to move away from our daughter; in his shoes, I don't know how I'd do it. But I think it's more than that... I think it's inertia. I think it's that he likes the illusion that living in "our" house allows him that things aren't that different than they used to be.
On days when he is "on" with Katherine, he still gets a lot of help. He goes to the refrigerator, and it is stocked with snacks and food and even beer (which I don't drink, but he does, and I buy for him). He never thinks twice about laundry for the girl - her drawers are magically refilled (and when the clothes get to small, they automatically show up in the next size - magic!). He works on bikes out in the garage, and when she wanders around saying "I'm bored, Mama" I do activities with her. When she says, "I'm hungry," I feed her.
When he moves out, all that will change.
I'm mad at him for all of this, sure. But I feel sorry for him, too. I fill hopeful about the future. I feel certain of my own ability to manage. I am proud of the effort I put in to making our lives rich and full, even on a shoestring budget. He is depressed, angry, lonely (he has isolated from many people).
I know he's hurting. I feel compassion for him, and I work hard on that compassion. (It turns out that being compassionate is very hard work.)
But it absolutely wears me out to be the strong one, the one setting the agenda, the one who has to keep pushing him away.
And I feel even more worn out when I think of the to-do list associated with his moving out. Some days I'm barely holding on by a thread, and I feel like I can't manage one more single thing.
Deep breaths. One foot, then another, then another, then another.......
In addition to the horrors seen in the media (which hit WAY too close to home), I had to exchange email with Bryan about move out dates. He keeps wanting to push the date back: for me, it's a rock solid date, but he has suggested date after date after date, later and later dates. This puts me in the uncomfortable position of having to reject him over, and over, and over again.
Just to be clear: I don't think he wants to be with me. He's not asking for love, romance, or even companionship. I just think that he can't bear the idea of moving out. I don't blame him for not wanting to move away from our daughter; in his shoes, I don't know how I'd do it. But I think it's more than that... I think it's inertia. I think it's that he likes the illusion that living in "our" house allows him that things aren't that different than they used to be.
On days when he is "on" with Katherine, he still gets a lot of help. He goes to the refrigerator, and it is stocked with snacks and food and even beer (which I don't drink, but he does, and I buy for him). He never thinks twice about laundry for the girl - her drawers are magically refilled (and when the clothes get to small, they automatically show up in the next size - magic!). He works on bikes out in the garage, and when she wanders around saying "I'm bored, Mama" I do activities with her. When she says, "I'm hungry," I feed her.
When he moves out, all that will change.
I'm mad at him for all of this, sure. But I feel sorry for him, too. I fill hopeful about the future. I feel certain of my own ability to manage. I am proud of the effort I put in to making our lives rich and full, even on a shoestring budget. He is depressed, angry, lonely (he has isolated from many people).
I know he's hurting. I feel compassion for him, and I work hard on that compassion. (It turns out that being compassionate is very hard work.)
But it absolutely wears me out to be the strong one, the one setting the agenda, the one who has to keep pushing him away.
And I feel even more worn out when I think of the to-do list associated with his moving out. Some days I'm barely holding on by a thread, and I feel like I can't manage one more single thing.
Deep breaths. One foot, then another, then another, then another.......
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