Today was one of those days one would want to just shoo away. You know, stomp your foot as if to scare off like it were a dirty, heavy, lazy fly.
I woke up with children in my bed- two of them in fact. I haven’t been sleeping well for the past few nights as I have been suffering unmedicated. I lost the original prescription for my medication and so couldn’t refill them. This meant no meds. Clumsy, silly me. I have also delayed calling the doctor’s secretary to have her write a new one- which is strange. I think the idea of being a bother to her just overwhelmed me a little too much and it moved me into a pit of inaction.
Anyway with very little sleep and children everywhere I look, seeking attention and porridge and socks and slippers and school stuff- I flipped. Let’s call it my morning flip. It’s like arriving late to work and someone steals your parking space while you’re trying to pull in. Your bottom lips are pressed to the side like wtf. Wtf. That’s it. And of course no one understands my morning flip means I need to be left alone. The nanny only arrived an hour later so I had to deal with a whole lot of wtf moments in 60 minutes. It completely drained any bit of energy that a few hours of sleep gave me.
It’s the worst feeling, not being able to sleep but knowing you need sleep. It’s one of the only things that keeps me alive, literally, just sleep. My tablets knock me out for 12 hours in the week and if I’m drinking I don’t take them. Ja ok. Not the best thing to do. But I hate the idea of mixing pills with pleasure, I mean, wine. Alcohol has this funny way of boosting your mood to fantastic in a short space of time. Some pills take ages to do the same. But they do,and pulls are way better for you than dependence on alcohol.
I tried to force myself to sleep when the nanny came but it didn’t work. I ended up making myself a cup of decaf with two sugars. I was so ruffled that I spoilt my diet with those two sugars. Dammit.
I couldn’t answer emails. I lay there, frozen, staring at my phone, emails coming in. Calling my name, but I don’t answer back. Yvette’s not home… She’s in Abyss. Like it’s some faraway town. From head to toe I’m numb to what’s happening out in the world- reading about it- but not part of the living, breathing world. I can’t respond. I can’t connect.
I think i should maybe ask one of the other moms to take my eldest to his eistedfod. The thought lingers longer as I toss and turn craving the peace of sleep. I guilt trip myself into not asking. What kind of mother am I? I don’t know. Some women do so much more than I do. And look where I am: in bed, with troubled sleep.
As soon as I enter the space between sleep and awake, I wake up to children and teletubbies and a tumble dryer’s noise.
I decide to get dressed and try to look presentable. I feel off. Unplugged. But I have to be a good mom. No excuses. The second I tell myself that I cry and fall apart for a few seconds just to ease the pressure. It’s time to shine for those I see at the eistedfod. I sit for two hours. I clap and smile and rush back home to cook a meal for the family. The bloody thing finished an hour later. But my son did really well.
The hours are so full, with noise and laughter and family, but days like this I just know empty. I am the echo to the joy around me: just the same noise but growing dim. The sounds and smiles dance everywhere except within me. Just for today I want to fall apart and not feel guilty about it.
Call me dramatic.