Updated: July 2, 2020
Originally Published: April 20, 2016
As dawn breaks, I find myself wondering how another night has slipped away without rest. My muscles ache, and the impending sound of the alarm serves as a reminder of the day ahead. The warmth of my bed is a sanctuary from the chaos outside, a brief moment where no one calls for me. Perhaps I could silence the alarm and let time drift by? But my partner has to go to work and I need to get our eldest ready for school.
There’s no need to shower; it feels pointless when the only destination is the school drop-off. Mornings, often seen as fresh starts, simply amplify my doubts and decision fatigue. Is it acceptable for my son to buy lunch at school? I realize we have no bread, and the yogurt has turned. Grocery shopping is overdue.
I’ve neglected laundry, leaving him with only a pair of torn jeans and a shirt that barely fits. Why haven’t I purchased new clothes for him? I should probably whip up a proper breakfast, but is microwaved oatmeal sufficient?
Carpooling fills me with dread. Our vehicle is a mess, and I worry they can sense my disheveled state. They must notice that I haven’t brushed my teeth or hair in days. I haven’t signed up for the PTA or offered any help at school events; the weight of guilt is heavy.
I wish my youngest would allow me to rest on the couch while he plays. Thankfully, he’s potty trained, sparing me from the need to change diapers. Yet, it’s been weeks since I took him to the park. He needs social interaction, but what if I encounter someone? The library is a safer bet, where silence reigns. I dread the thought of him being the only toddler running amok. Perhaps we’ll stay home after all.
Maybe I’ll set out some paper and washable paint to keep him entertained for a while. Nap time is crucial; I hope he sleeps. Perhaps he’ll snuggle next to me while I doze off, and if he stirs, I’ll hear him.
I need to empty the dishwasher; the sink is overflowing. Has my home started to emit an odor? A friend posted about a “Mommy and Me” cooking class on social media. I should sign up. No, I tried that once and it was a waste of money since we never attended. I’ll plan to bake cookies tonight. Do I even have the ingredients? And do I own a clean cookie sheet? More grocery shopping looms.
Did I remember to return the field trip form for my oldest? They know I’m a stay-at-home mom, and I didn’t volunteer to chaperone. I shouldn’t have mentioned wanting to help at the parent-teacher conference. This will hurt his feelings, and I’ll have to concoct an excuse for him not attending.
He should start taking the bus home. Carpool will see me in my pajamas. Maybe he could just stay home with me tomorrow; he could help watch his brother and I could catch a few more z’s. But that would be unfair to him; he needs to be in school, even if it’s easier for him to be at home. I can’t let him tell his dad, either. I dread the confrontation.
I’m exhausted from assisting my son with homework. Why does he need me there to supervise his spelling practice? All I want is to lie on the couch and finish my show. I forgot to pick up cookie dough for tonight. Perhaps I’ll let them have popcorn instead. Ah, popcorn and a movie! At least they’ll be entertained while I rest.
Dinner also weighs heavily on my mind. We’re having popcorn later, so I must avoid starchy foods. I didn’t unload the dishwasher, again. Scrambled eggs could be fun; they’re healthy and require only one pan. I’ll leave the dishes for tomorrow and use coffee mugs as bowls. The kids might find that amusing. I haven’t prepared a decent dinner in days. Maybe he’ll decide to cook. No, he worked hard today. I’ll ask him to bring home something. I can only hope he doesn’t notice the pile of laundry or the scattered toys. I’ll tell him I had a terrible headache; he’ll understand.
As bath time approaches, I wonder how I can wash my child when I can’t even manage to bathe myself. It takes concentration, and my arms ache. Of course, my kids resist showers. If only I could just sit in the tub for a moment of peace. Why are they so demanding? It would be lovely if they could entertain themselves for just a little while.
I feel overwhelmed.
Finally, it’s bedtime. Please, let them go to sleep on time. I’m fatigued and want to enjoy a movie with my husband. I just wish they would sleep through the night in their own beds. I’m weary of being touched; we haven’t been intimate in weeks. He might want to, but why doesn’t he notice my unkempt state? I hope he dozes off while watching the movie so I can avoid turning him down once more. Maybe I can remind him I had a headache today.
Someone needs to read the boys a bedtime story and tackle the laundry. No one has clean clothes. I wonder if I can persuade him to do both. But that wouldn’t be fair; I should have managed the laundry. I’ll just wash the essentials for tomorrow.
My youngest is awake again. He won’t return to sleep without me. It’s always me they want. I can’t bear this. Why are they so selfish? I can’t handle everything on my own. I wasn’t prepared for bed yet. His cries will wake up his older brother. I’ll resort to Netflix; maybe that will lull him to sleep. Of course, he insists on watching his favorite show again. I rarely get to watch anything. It doesn’t matter, I’ll just close my eyes and drift off.
Sleep comes slowly, with failures and worries replaying in my mind. The struggles of today will continue tomorrow, and the burden grows heavier. It feels impossible to be a decent parent while grappling with these overwhelming feelings. My shortcomings are magnified, and the harsh light of reality feels blinding. I find it increasingly difficult to flourish.
I can’t do this alone. I hope my partner won’t judge me for needing help. Will he encourage me to reach out for support? Perhaps my mother can assist if he’s busy.
Deep down, I know I should seek help. I need it. It’s a desperate plea. Please, don’t make me face this alone.
As I finally surrender to sleep, I know my depression will still be there when morning arrives.