A Question Answered

The following words have nothing to do with the above photos. I might discuss them later, but for now I need to address something more pressing. Last week I received an email from an acquaintance (Not a fan of that word, but I try not to use the word “friend” too loosely. If you have a solid in-between, please share). She was struggling with feeling exhausted, overwhelmed, bored and lonely and asked if I’d ever experienced similar feelings and how I manage to keep my kids and husband happy while maintaining my own happiness. It’s not the first time I’ve received a message like this, but it’s the first time it’s made me wonder what I’ve done to give people the impression that these feelings might be foreign to me or that I’ve battled my way past them for good. So I figured I’d set the record straight.

For starters, yes, I feel exhausted, overwhelmed, bored and lonely. Lots of emphasis on the boredom. Some days I wake up and my first thought is THIS AGAIN? I could be a tour guide at The Children’s Museum. I can walk the zoo with my eyes closed. I know the family history of at least 3 Target employees (s/o Courtney from Jamaica). Sometimes at the grocery store I make up rap lyrics about fruit. FRUIT. It’s like I can hear my brain calling out for stimulation, but my body’s just too damned tired to listen. I know you’re waiting for the part where I say “but it’s sooo worth it”. Sorry. I’m not there yet. The loneliness. I’m aware that I am never alone. Like ever ever ever. Like even during the few brief times during the day when most humans find that being alone is of the utmost importance, still no. But despite my past 8 years of constant companionship, I’ve been called by my actual name maaaaybe 14 times. It’s surprisingly easy to forget what or who your name represents when you go weeks at a time without ever hearing it. It’s a very lonely feeling.

If you’re the person who sent the message that prompted this post, you’re probably wishing you had sent it to someone else right about now. I know you were looking for answers, so here’s my best shot: you’re feeling and doing exactly what you’re supposed to be feeling and doing. You’re waking up, slithering into your stretchy clothes for your workout-that-won’t-ever-happen and rolling your eyes all the way to Discovery Green. You’re frustrated and raising your voice when you really want to raise your hands. You’re seeking guidance from people you (mistakingly) think have it all together. You’re trying. Not everyone tries. You owe it to yourself to acknowledge that.

As far as keeping everyone happy, you can’t. It’s not your job. It’s not mine either but I’m super hardheaded so I try to do it anyway and then I look up and welp! there I am, crying in a closet! I really dislike the phrase, happy wife, happy life because I just imagine this poor family shuffling around with wide eyes and open-mouthed grins making sure the matriarch has a never-ending flow of wine and chocolate and foot rubs and it just grosses me out. But I’m pretty sure I’ve been misinterpreting it. I think it’s up to us to secure our own happiness and that can be a tough concept for stay-at-home-moms. Yes, we know how emotionally and physically taxing the job can be. And most of my working friends with small children admit to secretly looking forward to Monday mornings. But we still know we’re among the privileged group of women who are able to make the choice to be home with our children. There’s a certain (and silly) sense of indebtedness that comes along with that privilege and I trip over it every time I take a step towards putting my own emotional needs first. When I pick myself back up and get it done, it is indeed a happy life. And fortunately, it doesn’t take much. Thirty minutes outside with a magazine, a few hours at the beach, a good meal enjoyed alone, a solo trip to Target (I have a problem) with a cup of coffee or a dinner with other moms who “get it”. Nothing extravagant, just something to switch gears or silence all the noise in and around my head.

My advice to you, message-sender, is to find something that allows your shoulders to peel themselves away from your earlobes (ten bucks says they’re up there). And most importantly, if you haven’t already, share these sentiments with your spouse. When the twins were a little over 3 and not yet in mother’s day out, I had reached a point where I desperately needed some time to myself. I was feeling like I’d lost all traces of an identity outside of wife and mother. I felt guilty about it so I tried to ignore it. One evening my husband came home from work and found me standing at the stove, completely exhausted, cooking a pot of absolutely nothing. When he brought it to my attention, I burst into tears and explained the feelings I’d been experiencing. I still don’t know what happened that day to make me completely forget to add food to the pot, but I do know that this act of lunacy sparked what came to be known as “Mama Wednesdays”. Every Wednesday for the next several weeks, I left the house as soon as he returned from work. I started out taking a dance class, but some nights I would just drive around with my windows down listening to music with cuss words because I could. I know it sounds corny and a bit like a band-aid for a bigger issue, but it’s what has worked for me. I still have days when I hit the pillow feeling like I’ve failed every parenting test that’s been thrown my way, but I know I tried. I know my family loves me and I love them. And I know that in the end, it’s sooo worth it.