If you’ve read this blog for some time, you’ll come to realize I don’t write when I am struggling; trying to make a positive out of a negative and failing miserably. This past year has been extremely trying and I’m not even close to making it through what lies ahead. I’ve been searching deep for the words to express my sadness and how to find the positive within it.
This past week was overwhelming, exhausting physically and mentally, and really took it’s toll. I’ve been summoned to the darker side and I’m just too tired to fight it. Wrong decision after wrong decision.
It’s as if I’ve been sucked out with the under current, feverishly fighting to swim against the rip tide that is trying to drown me instead of swimming with it and finding a calmer place to make my way back to shore. I’m just about ready to give up and let it pull me out to sea.
Phone call after phone call, email after email, I’ve been fighting the little things in life while trying to process something quite bigger. In just the past five days, I’ve fought with insurance companies (who doesn’t these days), dealt with crappy over-priced auto repairs, drove all over the state for two days, and found out I do not qualify for family leave under our wonderful state and federal guidelines.
I’m facing a maximum of fourteen days off using all of my sick time to spend with my newborn before having to return to work. I love where I work now and those I work with, but I had grand plans to do things right the second time around. I thought I’d be able to avoid the depression I experienced with Miles in those early weeks and months; yet it’s already crept up on me with this new reality.
I started out this pregnancy ten pounds overweight. I have gained more than I should’ve at this point much to my dismay. I’ve been knocked down, dragged out, and down for the count for months with no end of this morning sickness and exhaustion in sight. It’s difficult to have no control over your body and your mind. It’s even more difficult to feel little control over anything else in relation.
I wish I had the zeal and passion I saw last night pouring out of Neil Degrasse Tyson on 60 Minutes. To feel that exuberant about a subject, and feeling like a kid again. For a quick moment, I felt like maybe I could reignite the zest for life I’ve had when I trained for a half marathon, picked fresh food from the farm or started a photography business and took all sorts of risks without fear of failure; that was before children. Then the thought faded into the darkness.
At least this baby guy has been doing very well despite my downfall. Not that I get credit for his good looks, behavior, amazing intelligence or quick wit…
Maybe the weather will warm up and help me make better decisions and see some positive aspect of my failure aside from no loss in income. Detachment feels like the only way to survive. I realize there are far bigger problems in the world for others and I should suck it up, but I’m just tired of battle after battle; is this all there is?
– kate –