But *deep breath* I am finding it so hard at the moment.
Nibs has either been sick or teething since October. As he sees me as a giant human handkerchief (snail trails of snot! Why that’s just what I always wanted to complete this look) I’ve been ill too. Winter so far has been such an unrelenting germfest I am considering encasing him in a bubble and just tossing Ella’s kitchen pouches through a hatch.
I respond to illness with the emotional maturity of a petulant three year. ‘NOOOO, this is so unfair. Why me???!!’ *Throws tissues on the floor* In the good old days being ill meant time off, throwing a pity party in bed with snacks and tv and not emerging until I felt better. Now being ill means juggling an ill grumpy baby who swings between climbing the walls out of boredom and howling on mummy. No bed, no tv, no down time.
I could cope with this if I had slept. But in addition to illness Nibs has been teething and waking screaming every two hours. Fellow mum’s trade sleep deprivation stories like warrior’s comparing scars. Pre motherhood friends are less interested in hearing you bore on about how tired you are… again.
There are other reasons as well. This time of year has never been particularly kind to me and mine. But mainly it’s the illness and lack of sleep.
Lately I feel…
Frayed at the edges
Like I am running on empty
Like I have nothing left to give.
Not great when you have a tiny being utterly dependent on you.
This is not the problem. Because it’s the weekend He Who Shall Not Be Named (HWSNBN) will be on the case. And then I just have to survive the next week before he is off for Christmas. Everything is better when he’s around. Somehow around him it feels safe to share when I am finding things a bit shit. Everyone else? Not so much.
The problem is that it takes until I am drowning for me to mumble ‘Hey, this water’s a bit deep, eh?’
When I am hurting, my first response is to try and convince myself it isn’t that bad. When I am finally able to acknowledge it is that bad I then engage in a round of twisted comparisons.
You can’t complain about motherhood because you struggled with infertility, you should be grateful to have a baby at all.
You can’t complain because your baby wakes every two hours when your friends baby wakes every hour.
You can’t complain about finding it hard because you’ve got a loving and supportive husband. You’re finding it hard? Think of all the single mums out there.
You can’t complain about struggling with one baby when your friend has two.
You can’t complain about your baby because your friend’s babies died and they would kill to experience those sleepless nights you’re moaning about.
You can’t complain you’re finding it hard mothering an able-bodied child because your parents raised your sister who is disabled.
You can’t complain because your baby is safe, warm and fed. Think of those poor babies in Aleppo.
So it goes until I am throughly shamed and silenced. And so I don’t complain, I don’t ask for help until things get really bad and by then it’s almost too late.
Don’t get me wrong there is a value in recognising your privilege and feeling grateful for what you have compared to others.
But pain is not a zero sum game. If it was there would ONE person in this entire world who was objectively judged the worse off and had the right to complain and the rest of us would shut the hell up. If I am finding it hard it does not take away from my friend who is also struggling. There is room enough for both our experiences.
So this month I am going to try and speak up when I am finding things shit to people other than HWSNBN. Eeek!
I need to speak up when things are hard because naming a feeling helps reduce the intensity. It stops it from being trapped and magnified in the echo chamber in my head.
I need to share so that other people can know what is going on with me and step up to offer their support, if they want.
I need to be honest because this feeling that everything is a bit shit is just as valid as the feeling that everything is wonderful.
I want to speak about this because other people being open about struggling has made me feel less alone. And I hope by sharing this other people will remember it’s normal to find things tough.
Finally having a bitch as well as being necessary, helpful and normal can be fun too.
So *deep breath* I’m struggling. Anything you want to get off your chest, let me know in the comments.