Remember those whiny, self-pitying posts a few weeks back when I told you how tired I've been? Yeah. The whining continues (as evidenced by this all new, if not improved, whiny post), the self pity comes and goes, and the sleep deprivation is worse than ever. I am so far beyond over-tired, I'm not even sure what to call it. It's really screwing with my head. I honestly feel like I could start sobbing at any time... and I often do. The scary thing is that sometimes, the sobs feel so... I don't know what to call it... so BIG, so powerful, so overwhelming... like I won't be able to keep myself together. Like if I were to really let loose, and let those sobs come all the way out, I wouldn't be able to stop. I do keep it together- so I don't think I'm crazy yet... at least not technically. I'm still holding it together. Somehow. So far. But barely. Like when a kid comes walking in, I'm able to quickly wipe tears from my face and say, "Nothing, honey. I'm fine. I'm just tired. What's up?" Then as soon as the kid leaves the room, here come the sobs again- full force, as if they never left.
It's not that I feel sad, really. I just feel like crying. All.the.time.
And I can't think anymore. My mind has turned to oatmeal. And I don't just mean regular "Mommy Brain," either. I mean more like full-on brain death. I never know what the hell is going on. I can't remember things.
I have no clue what is taking place around me. I can be watching TV with the kids and one of them will ask about something that was just said on the show, but I won't know the answer. Because I wasn't listening. I thought I was listening, but really I was just zoned out like a zombie in front of the screen, and I couldn't tell you one single detail about the show I just watched.
Mike (or some kid) will tell me where he's going, then drive off. Darrell will ask where he went, who he was with and when he's coming home. I.Don't.Know. Because I forgot to ask. Didn't even think of it. Obviously, this makes me look like an uninterested, horrible mother. I'm beginning to think I am. Not uninterested. Just not able to hang on to my interest. But definitely horrible.
I can't carry on normal conversations. Sometimes I have to ask what flippin' day it is. And that is soooo NOT like me. I used to be all about the calendar and keeping track of whatever we had going on. I had this master calendar in my head that could remember kids' schedules and what I was planning for dinners that week, and when the baby would be due for shots, and... you get the idea... Now, I just feel like I need to be taken care of.
Darrell is very good about making sure I get to go back to bed in the morning or take afternoon naps when he's home. He takes care of the kids and lets me sleep, so I can't complain about a lack of help... BUT... It's not the same. Taking a nap is just not the same as putting your head on the pillow at night and waking up the next morning. The other day, I slept longer than I think I've slept in the past year or two (really). I slept deep. I slept long (like, 4 hours). Wonderful, yes? No... The problem? It was during the late morning/early afternoon. Which basically guaranteed I wouldn't be able to sleep well that night (and I didn't).
I don't know how to fix this.
Last night, I honestly don't think I slept for longer than 10-20 minutes at a time. It's really, really starting to get to me, peeps. I'm dizzy a good part of the time. I've gotten really scared of driving, especially with the kids in the car, because I don't ever feel totally "with it" anymore. I feel weak and shaky. And I'd almost swear it's affecting my hearing. I know it's really not- but it seems that everyone sounds like Charlie Brown's teacher these days (Waa-wah-wa-wah-wa). It's probably just that, since I'm hearing impaired and have to focus closely on what people are saying to understand them, I can't hear since I can't focus. Make sense? Oh, yeah... and I'm always mad as hell. I feel really, really cranky 24/7.
It's getting to the point where all I want in life is to sleep at night. And it doesn't even have to be ALL night! Just five hours would be awesome. Four. Good God, I'd take four. I want to sleep at night, and feel awake during the day and know what the hell is going on with my kids. I want to do normal mom things, like make breakfast for my babies and do laundry- and while we're on that topic, I really want to know where my frickin' favorite blue t shirt is. I do not want to ask my teenage son if he happened to wash or fold any of my underwear lately. Is it a tiny bit pathetic that my whole goal in life has become dusting a damn table without feeling so overwhelmed and exhausted by the activity that I have to fall down and cry in the middle of it?
I want to do "Normal Mom" things without feeling like I have to hold in the sobs until my kids aren't looking. I do not want my children to feel like they are "bothering Mom" to come up and ask me a damn question or show me a picture they just colored. God, I'm so horrible. No kid should ever have to say, "I'm sorry to bother you, Mama, but I made a picture for you." I.Am.Horrible. That is now my new name. Horrible Hugeass.
But I just don't know how to make it all better. I feel at this point, the housework is so far gone that I'd never be able to catch up, which makes me want to say to hell with it and just go take a damn nap. I apologize, by the way, to my Christian readers, for all the hells and damns. If it makes you feel any better, I'm actually editing all the effs in my head and changing them to hells and damns before they reach the page. I'm just in that kind of mood. God forgive me, but right this second, I just want to scream really loud effs and every other drunken sailor type of phrase at the top of my lungs. I'm horrible. I'm tired AND I'm heading for hell in a handbasket. How awesome is that?
Anyway... I was saying that I don't know how, at this point, to start turning this around and making it better. I feel right now like there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Like I will never sleep like a normal person again. I will never be a normal mom. My house will never be even half-way in order. And it's making me crazy. It's all just too much. Sam is going to grow up believing his mom is a vampire who sleeps all day and says hell and damn all the time and the other kids are going to hate me and I'm never, ever going to find my favorite damn blue t shirt because it has committed suicide by diving to the bottom of the laundry pile and suffocating itself.
My priorities used to be: God first, Family second, Others third, Self last. I tried to live that. I certainly wasn't successful at it every day, but I tried. Now, my priorities are: Sleep first, Sleep second, A little something chocolate to snack on, More sleep.
I've tried several times to go without sleep (for 36 hrs. or so), thinking I'll be so tired that I'll have to sleep. At some point, your body and mind just must collapse, right? Wrong! When I go so long without sleep, I'll either: A) Become so wired, that I'm no longer sleepy (still tired, but not sleepy), or 2) The baby will have a bad night and I won't be "allowed" to sleep.
I say really crazy things. I was talking to Sam the other night- thank God the rest of the house was asleep and Sammy is too young to understand, because I realized what I was saying didn't even make any sense. I could not believe I'd said it. I'm too embarrassed to tell you what I said. And Sam won't tell, so don't ask. I'm just totally Nuckin' Futz.
I'm going nuts right here in front of God and everybody and there's not a soul on earth (in my real life) I can talk to about this, either. That makes it suck even worse, because it adds the loneliness and isolation factor in there, too. Of course, talking to everyone else on the planet(that would be you), like I'm doing right now, is not quite the same thing. Isn't that funny? I can tell you, strangers, things that I cannot say to people who know me. I feel like the only conversations I have with Darrell anymore swirl around my complaints, so I try to shutup as much as I can. He doesn't need to hear it. I'm quite certain he doesn't want to hear it. I know I wouldn't. Complaints get old so fast. I'm sure he feels he's doing the best he can, and I know my complaints make him feel like he's not doing enough. I also know he's doing a lot more than many other husbands would ever dream of doing. And I will look people right in the face and LIE when they ask me how I'm doing... "Oh, fine," I say, "I'm doing great!"
I think it makes me sound like a horrible failure if I tell the truth: "Oh, I'm crappy, that's how I'm doing. I honest to God feel like I'm going to DIE. Yes, D.I.E.- DIE. Thank you for asking. I skipped church last week so I could catch a nap and will probably do the same tomorrow. I haven't cooked a decent dinner in days, and who the hell knows how long it's been since I've done a load of laundry, or spent any real time with my kids. I don't even want to be talking to you right now because I'm too damn tired to fake all the pleasantries. And how the hell are you, as if I really care?"
I know there are people in my life who, if they heard any of this, their answer would be,
"Well, maybe you shouldn't have adopted another baby... Especially not at your age. Seven kids are just too many for you to handle."
And no, I'm not just imagining that. I know of at least one person who would have that attitude.
Is she right? I'm beginning to think she is. And her voice just keeps playing over and over in my head.
All I know is I'm failing. At everything. I don't cook. I don't clean. I don't even keep myself clean on a regular basis. I noticed the other day I could smell myself. Smell.Myself. And I did not get up to shower. Now that's not good. I don't spend enough time with my kids. I snap at anyone who tries to talk to me. I avoid having to be around people. I just want to sleep. And sleep some more.
Oh, yeah- and the social worker is coming at the end of the month for our 6 month post placement report, so... um... that oughtta be good. Bwaaahahaha.
I'm sorry this was so long and even more sorry to take up your precious free time being such a whiner. My little laptop has become my one real confidante, so you are too, by default. I'll try to be more cheerful on the next post. I owe you one.