Drowning

Warning: The following is a bit of verbal diarrhea with a little pity party to boot.  Continue on at your own risk.

I’m drowning.  I don’t any other way to describe it.  Not even the “oh woah is me I have so much work” but the kind of all consuming ball of stress that is suffocating me.  Suffocating….as I write it I realize what an appropriate word that is. 

I’ve reached a level that I wish I could cry just to relieve some pressure but nothing comes out.  It’s as if I’m just numb.  I’m a machine.  I go through the motions like a tazmanian devil during my day trying desperatly to just keep up-forget getting anything actually accomplished.  I type with fury and feel certain I’ve heard my keyboard begging for mercy. 

I push on but like quick sand I just feel myself sinking deeper.

There was a time before Emerson when this would happen and I could easily work into the night and on the weekends.  I swore that would never happen once the baby was born.  Truth is, I almost long for those days just so that I had the potential of catching up. 

Don’t get me wrong.  I adore being a mom.  It’s just that I find myself feeling like I’m constantly on the precipice, always teetering between my two worlds, never doing enough for either.  And my husband?  Poor guy.  He gets shoved even further down the line. 

I try to show my love by doing more.  As the primary bread winner and a manager at a large firm his job schedule takes precidence.  Make no mistake, I am the first person to say that this is as it should be.  Before we got married I remember my mother in law saying that once you have kids there’s always one parent that does more of the child care and one that does more of the “bread winning”.  It makes sense, and I’m fine with that.  It works for us.  That’s not to say he doesn’t do an imense amount, it’s just that I end up doing drop off and pick up and try to cram in every iota I can in the 8.5 hours I’m at the office (usually chocked full of meetings).  I pick up the baby, get her home, fed, bathed, try to clean up and then while Matt puts her down make dinner, clean up and then (in theory) work out….or just work.  Which is exactly what I should be doing now. 

I’m not even sure of the purpose of writing all of this except to say …I’m human