When I was in high school, I ran track. I was a sprinter and ran in the 4 x 400 relay team. The 400 is basically a controlled sprint. You need to make sure you don't go out too fast or you'll die at the end. Where we were in the race when I received the baton, usually dictated how fast I went out and whether or not I'd be able to hold on for the last 100 meters. I was (still am) pretty little and I definitely wasn't very strong. I didn't have much of a kick and usually just tried to hold on till I could pass on the baton. One of my least favorite feelings in my entire athletic career has to be the moment I would turn the corner on the last curve and hit the final straightaway. My muscles would immediately tighten under the strain to keep up my pace. It was like running in the water...exhausted. It's called "hitting the wall." A miserable experience, but strangely one I continued to do for my four year high school track career.
On Saturday at approximately 10:45pm I finally hit the wall. I've been tired both mentally and physically in the last 2 years, but for some reason this felt different.
I pulled off yet another day of early swim practice, soccer and baseball games, a kid party (herping hike and ice cream) for A, and a big family party for both A and K's birthdays. Prep for both parties was completely me. Everything worked out great and people seemed to have fun, especially the birthday boy.
I was cleaning up and dumping the millionth plastic cup that someone left half-full in my living room and I just had had enough. I sat down on the floor and sobbed. I was so tired I didn't think I could make it upstairs to bed. Somehow I stumbled upstairs, took out my contacts and cried myself to sleep.
The next morning we got up early for mass and continued non-stop the rest of the day with games, laundry, homework, etc. CA stopped by after we got from mass (forgot her keys the night before) and told me as she was leaving that we need to spend more time together and that "I" need to prioritize our relationship. She's busy too and I can't possibly be that busy. I had nothing to say. She just doesn't get it. I don't think she ever will.
The day finished off with E announcing she wants to go back to individual therapy. We went on a break in September on her therapist's suggestion because E wasn't participating (she goes to a grief group at school). She basically used it to bitch about me and how I don't pay enough attention to her. My first reaction was panic in how I am possibly going to get her there. I can barely get through each day with our current load. My second fear is that she's just going to continue where she left off last summer and try to drag me into her sessions or use her therapist to tell me she wants more attention and doesn't understand why her needs don't always come first. It was exhausting and awful. It always made me feel like I was a terrible aunt and parent. Yes, I went ahead and called her therapist. I'm trying to be positive, but her timing was strange and she can be very manipulative. The focus switched away from her this week (no prom) and just like M's fake illnesses her ability to express her insecurity is limited. I'm hopeful, but skeptical of her ultimate intentions.
I have been on the verge of crying since Saturday night. I have been moving through my days in a fog. Driving. Cooking. Trying to be normal around the kids. I just feel like I'm failing at everything and see no end in sight. My house is a mess. I'm behind in laundry. I'm doing an awful job at work. Thank goodness both of my task leads are clueless and somehow I'm skating by.
I am also so sick of constantly asking for help. It sounds silly to complain about help. Asking for help is something that is really hard for me to do and I have to do it every single day. Even getting the help feels like work because I still have to figure out all the logistics. I feel guilty about needing the help and the fact that we can never act self sufficiently is suffocating at times.
I think I've finally hit the wall. We have been running a marathon and there is no end in sight. The emotional and physical needs of the kids are completely overwhelming. Even Harriet (my therapist) on Monday was at a loss. I feel indulgent sitting here typing this out when I still have laundry to switch over to the dryer and lunches to make.
I am tired in every fiber of my being. I don't feel strong enough to finish this race. At least in the 400 relay I could pass the baton off to someone else. Unfortunately, it's all me and I am struggling. Sigh.