My days have fallen into a rut and not in an enjoyable way. When I used to dream about my life (pre-marriage) it involved a routine: shopping once a week, deep-cleaning the house once a month, nightly runs, quietly reading every day... things I could do for hours without getting bored or irritated.
Then I got married and had a kid and suddenly my life is filled with boring, repetitive, frustrating activities. I wake up to my prodding child, I try to read the books I want to read while trying to defend my house from an intruder I literally brought into this world, I try to walk him to stimulate his mind and give him a taste of the outdoors, put him down to sleep, get a few chores done (but not too loud or he'll wake up) then I'm struggling to make dinner while he screams and pushes me away from the counters before bathing and putting him to bed. All the while, Netflix runs in the background so I don't ram my head against the wall in the silence.
And I have to ask myself where I am. Where is me? Where are the things I like to do, the time I take for myself? When do I get the luxury of being selfish, of taking a moment to do something simply because I want to do it and not because I feel obligated by someone else? When have my solitary times not been cut short by the whimper of my son? I can't take a bath without him feeling left out, can't crochet without him pulling the yarn out, can't read without defending the book from his salivary glands... the only avenue left to me is to look at stupid pictures on my phone but even then, I have to hide it. It's exhausting being part of a couple, but I think it's worse being a mom to a clingy baby.
'Treasure this moment!' I don't. We all need a balance and I don't have that. I don't appreciate being drowned just because I happened to be in the middle of a desert earlier. I don't think, 'Well, at least I have water!' No. Where is the balance? Right now, my life is lived solely for others and I am not the Savior, I am not Jesus Christ, I cannot do this without going insane! I don't feel pretty because I don't get to take care of myself. As I type this, my son is crying in the other room while my husband blasts some boring documentary on British castles. Our son isn't happy, my husband isn't happy, and I'm pretending this is sufficient time to do something I want to do... but I don't even want to write this blog post, I just feel obligated to talk to someone, something, about my problems because nobody else in my life listens.
I am not a happy person and I have never been an optimist. I do try to look at things logically, but the only bright spot I'm seeing is that, one day, my son will go to school and unless I have more kids, that means a temporary reprieve to my torture. That means a little solitary me-time between my husband's work and my son's school. I don't know how some women find joy in this, how they can magically manage their time and be the perfect wives, but I feel like it's an impossible, insurmountable task because one minute I'm trying to put him down for an afternoon nap and the next, he's nursing himself into oblivion and it feels like he'll be nursing for the rest of his life. Not even my life, I could probably die and he'd still be there, waiting for me to make his life better.
I am writing in my journal more... and I have started reading my scriptures and praying more. I don't think it's helping, but it's something I do that's not for my husband or my son... pretty much the only consistent thing I do for myself.
Then I got married and had a kid and suddenly my life is filled with boring, repetitive, frustrating activities. I wake up to my prodding child, I try to read the books I want to read while trying to defend my house from an intruder I literally brought into this world, I try to walk him to stimulate his mind and give him a taste of the outdoors, put him down to sleep, get a few chores done (but not too loud or he'll wake up) then I'm struggling to make dinner while he screams and pushes me away from the counters before bathing and putting him to bed. All the while, Netflix runs in the background so I don't ram my head against the wall in the silence.
And I have to ask myself where I am. Where is me? Where are the things I like to do, the time I take for myself? When do I get the luxury of being selfish, of taking a moment to do something simply because I want to do it and not because I feel obligated by someone else? When have my solitary times not been cut short by the whimper of my son? I can't take a bath without him feeling left out, can't crochet without him pulling the yarn out, can't read without defending the book from his salivary glands... the only avenue left to me is to look at stupid pictures on my phone but even then, I have to hide it. It's exhausting being part of a couple, but I think it's worse being a mom to a clingy baby.
'Treasure this moment!' I don't. We all need a balance and I don't have that. I don't appreciate being drowned just because I happened to be in the middle of a desert earlier. I don't think, 'Well, at least I have water!' No. Where is the balance? Right now, my life is lived solely for others and I am not the Savior, I am not Jesus Christ, I cannot do this without going insane! I don't feel pretty because I don't get to take care of myself. As I type this, my son is crying in the other room while my husband blasts some boring documentary on British castles. Our son isn't happy, my husband isn't happy, and I'm pretending this is sufficient time to do something I want to do... but I don't even want to write this blog post, I just feel obligated to talk to someone, something, about my problems because nobody else in my life listens.
I am not a happy person and I have never been an optimist. I do try to look at things logically, but the only bright spot I'm seeing is that, one day, my son will go to school and unless I have more kids, that means a temporary reprieve to my torture. That means a little solitary me-time between my husband's work and my son's school. I don't know how some women find joy in this, how they can magically manage their time and be the perfect wives, but I feel like it's an impossible, insurmountable task because one minute I'm trying to put him down for an afternoon nap and the next, he's nursing himself into oblivion and it feels like he'll be nursing for the rest of his life. Not even my life, I could probably die and he'd still be there, waiting for me to make his life better.
I am writing in my journal more... and I have started reading my scriptures and praying more. I don't think it's helping, but it's something I do that's not for my husband or my son... pretty much the only consistent thing I do for myself.
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