She was laughing. I saw her body shaking out of the corner of my eye. I could see the suppressed lift of one side of her smile even though my head was down. And why shouldn't she laugh? As I signed my name and removed my card from the chip reader, I was repeating over the din of my brood, "I love my children. I love my children. My children are wonderful. I love parenting. I love being a parent."

Photo by Alex Knight on Unsplash

While these affirmations did little to banish my sense of overload (Target with three kids? Sending up another SOS.), her amusement did. I am a hot mess today, emphasis on "mess." I have a stumpy side sprout shooting off my head because I just didn't have the time or energy to tame my curls. The untethered hair is flying every which way. I have been clutching at coffee cups and making wishes to all Gods old and new to please help me. Please. Just give me a minute of quiet where no child is destroying something in silence.

And there is the body pain. My neck and arm are screaming their constant serenade. I could have left the kids at home, except I couldn't. The roads are bad and I wasn't taking a chance on us getting stranded apart. Now that I'm home I wonder whether it is more likely we would survive stranded apart or together.

Photo by Alexander Andrews on Unsplash

Days like today make me long for the comfort of a hospital bed. I don't say this lightly. I take hospitalization seriously. But the security of knowing it's okay to feel bad and you will be taken care of, that the people surrounding you are there to help you, not just use your body as a jungle gym and scream hysterically because you didn't buy them candy. I need a break. At least 72 hours. Things I want to take with me are: my husband, tasty food and drinks. Things I want to leave behind include: my children, technology, responsibility.

SOS SOS SOS

This isn't melodrama. If anything can fuck me over, it's extended periods of time with my kids. After a 2.5 week Winter break, they went back to school for three days, were off Friday, Saturday, Sunday and today. Is my head above water? Am I breathing? Can anyone see this white flag?

Photo by Diana Simumpande on Unsplash

I have support with my kiddos, but not a lot. My family is out of the picture. My kids have special needs that make them very hard to deal with. My in-laws have the very not-coveted honor of being the only people who can ever take all three at once. And they do. Then they have to recover for at least a month, usually two. I don't blame them. I am always in recovery. This is not a snide remark. I am seriously always working on getting well because I have kids. I take prescription medication so I can not hate my kids. It's a thing, and I'm not the only person who experiences it.

Today the meds aren't working, so I picked up some D3 and Omega 3s. I took them at the beginning of this post. I can clearly hear the ringing in my ears now. That might not sound like a good result, but it means I'm calming down from being in trigger (aka a medium to low key ongoing panic attack). Tinnitus is a precursor and aftereffect of panic for me. I am also feeling my energy build to fill up that gaping space where rage lives. The same rage that makes me compulsively look for my running shoes and imagine lacing up and hitting the snow.

I could start again. Right? Photo by Isi Akahome on Unsplash

I almost picked up hand warmers for my pockets in case I decided to disappear in the woods. Instead, I bought my children's silence with Peanut M&Ms.

My question for you is how to people enjoy this? How do they stay in love with life? Affirmations are helpful. Supplements and prescriptions can be magical. But I need more. Cheers to robots who get to shut down.

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