I'm tired.
Three weeks ago Husband started a new job and with all new jobs there is the stress to prove yourself. Yet, we're in a pandemic and the world is on fire so he is currently trying to prove himself while trying not to catch on fire himself.
Two of weeks ago my 10-year old dog (she's a puggle, half pug and half beagle and super cute) had to have surgery for a herniated disc. I have had her since before I left my hometown, met Husband, got married, or had any children, so of course we took care of her. We are lucky to be in a position where we could do this for her, but now we're trying to keep one-year olds from picking at her staples while trying to keep the four-year old from stepping on her and trying to remember to give her the correct medicine at the correct time.
Last week our internet stopped working, so we had a worker come out to fix it only to be told after he arrived that because of COVID-19, they wouldn't be able to actually enter our home to fix it, but they'll put us on the list for when things go back to normal, thank you that will be $125 please. I admit that lack of internet is a thoroughly first world problem, but both Husband and I have to work from home right now so no internet means we are unable to do our jobs, not just no Netflix for the kids. Although at this point just Netflix for the kids seems pretty damn essential to me. (Obviously because I am posting this to the internet, Husband was able to pull something together so we can at least work because he is a computer/internet/technology whisperer)
Then this weekend we came home to find that the tiny (and I mean minuscule) amount of rain that we had in my area on Friday had found it's way through the roof and had started leaking through my daughter's ceiling. So now we need to have the HOA have roofers fix the roof and find someone to fix the ceiling.
On top of that I've been fighting with two insurance companies to pay for a claim from January when I went to see a psychiatrist for my anti-depressant checkup. Apparently neither company thinks they're responsible to pay. Now the psychiatrist's office is refusing to see me until it is paid and I'm out of refills on my prescription.
Our oldest daughter is smart and picks up on everything. But she's four and doesn't know how to handle any of it. So she yells and screams and refuses to go to bed and won't let go of me even when I ask her to over and over and over so I can just go to the bathroom. Sometimes when she won't let go or keeps climbing on me, it turns so frantic that I finish the encounter feeling that I've somehow been physically assaulted by my child. I lost it last night and screamed at her, which is something I try to never do, and had to ask Husband to take over. Then I cried. Then I picked my self up again (not sure how) and took care of the other two children who were crying, probably for food or something.
One of the things I'm finding extra frustrating during these times of insanity is how much more silo-ed we are than we have ever been in my lifetime. When my kid flies off the handle, or refuses to verbalize something (like the fact that she wants something to drink, or the show paused itself), or just seems to get overwhelmed, it is pretty much impossible for me to commiserate with a friend and find out that their kid is acting the same way. That these are age appropriate responses to these traumatic times. That Husband and I haven't done something horribly wrong in our parenting and that I'm not the worst mother and who was I to think I should ever become a parent in the first place. I can't also communicate how much other stuff I need to handle and have someone else help, or at least acknowledge the insanity of everything. I mean, texting is a wonderful invention and all, but nothing takes the place of talking it all over with a friend over lunch, or drinks, or lunch and drinks.
So when people say we're all in this together I have to resist the urge to throw things. When I saw the poem by Damian Barr saying that we're not all in the same boat but we are all in the same storm, I understood exactly what he meant. Everything that is happening right now is the storm but not all of us are in the same boat.
Note: I did not discuss the protests right now but I see them and I feel their power and righteous anger. I recognize that it is privilege that allows me to choose not to discuss them. I wish I could march. I can't right now. But I have donated. Check out blacklivesmatter.com