03/ 07/ 2017
I cannot get a handle on my emotions lately. Why does dream chasing have to be so overwhelming? Why can’t motherhood and Boss Lady-ing (I hate saying that) co-exist effortlessly? Why can’t my kids peacefully nap whenever I want to film or write? Why can’t my microphone be consistently plugged in so I don’t waste 24 minutes of that precious, peaceful time for nothing? Why can’t my kids drink their watered down apple juice instead of spitting it down my back. Why can’t editing videos be a quick 30-minute deal? But I think the biggest question of all is, WHY AM I SUCH A WHINER?
The only thing I hate worse than complainers is complaining. I never want to be one of those people dumping all their issues online, but here I am. Dumping. I realize these are 100% first world problems. I get it. But the thing about my depression is that these dumb non-issue issues are huge for me. They consume me. They make me cry eight times in one day. They make me run out of waterproof mascara faster than ever before. They overwhelm me to the point of anger and hopelessness.
I don’t know why I feel like I have to do everything all at once. My brain does this funny thing where it realizes I have a lot on my plate and then it’s like, “Hey, B, why don’t you get off your lazy butt and exercise or something? It’s not like you have a lot going on. Everyone else does it. Why can’t you do it too?” I think it’s because I have all these things I know are supposed to help my mental health and instead of tackling one or two sections on the self-care wheel like a normal person, I want to take the whole pie.
I REALIZE I AM SETTING MYSELF UP FOR FAILURE BUT THAT DOESN’T STOP ME.
And that’s how I end up here – curled up on my couch with tear-stained cheeks and a shirt crunchy from apple juice spit. It’s a cycle. One I used to go through a lot more often. I feel grateful I haven’t been back in this place for a while, but that makes being here now hard. I know this isn’t normal. I know I’m not being rational. I know I’m letting my doubt and feelings of inadequacy swallow up my confidence. I see it happening. I know it’s happening. But I don’t know how to stop it. It’s like I’m slipping on ice and I’m falling and I know I’m falling but I can’t stop myself from falling.
I thank the heavens every day for the quite moments I have when my heart feels light and my worries are paused. Whether it’s Cory randomly calling to tell me he loves me or watching the kids pile into Jude’s bed after breakfast to play sleepover. They are my sunshine. It doesn’t make everything better, but it lifts my heavy soul. That lift helps me get through the next hurdle. And I need all the help I can get right now.
Life is hard. Motherhood is hard. Balance is hard.
You’re not alone.