Faking it until I make it. Some day I will feel like the mom I'm supposed to be, instead of hiding from the screaming children or crying along with them. Some day, it won't be so overwhelming to look around my house that appears to have been hit by some kind of tornado of dirty dishes, trash, and clothes. Someday, I'll be able to find everything I need because it will be in the spot I put it. No idea when this day will come, but until then I'm doing everything in my power to keep going. I push myself to get out of bed, make bottles, hold babies, change diapers. I push myself to fake smiles for my fiance and my oldest, try to hide my tears. I want nothing more than to curl up in a ball and break down sobbing. I don't want to eat, I don't want to do anything. I'm pushing myself harder than I ever have had to in my life because there are little people depending on me. And if they weren't, who knows where I would be or what I would be doing.
Some days, I need a break. An extended vacation of being alone, totally alone, to sleep or eat too much food or just be the freak alone. I love my babies, I love them so much that they are the only thing keeping me going most days. Today, the past few days, have been hell for me. Up and down and all around - a tilt-a-whirl of wanting to run far away and never look back, overwhelmed with how much I love the children, how much I love my fiance for sticking by me. But I also have hated myself, and many minutes that fill up my day. I get angry and frustrated, just like anyone else. I want to throw things and scream and cry. I just want to be alone. But having three kids so close in age, there is no such thing as getting a babysitter more than maybe once a week, for a few hours of disc golf. I am so thankful to my MIL for that.
This post is so negative and rambley. I can barely think straight. PPD is a bitch, and I'm so tired of dealing with it. Medication seems to help for a little while, but makes me into a zombie. I don't have time for therapy (I have three children and no sitter). I want to be a better mom, a better wife, a better person, but there is so much frustration and rage and sadness built up inside of me that I don't know what to do. One good thing happens, and five bad things happen after. Own our own home, our own vehicle, have groceries in the cabinet... Then a month later our vehicle blows up and who knows what we are going to do. I can't afford child care, so working outside of home doesn't seem to be an option. Even if it were, my PPD and anxiety makes it hard to be away from the babies I wish sometimes to escape.
I am lost. I have no idea what to do to make my situation better. They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result each time. I feel stuck in this cycle. I wish I knew how to be a better mother, a better wife, a better person. But until then, I fight through every minute of every day to make it until bedtime. Each morning, I push myself to answering the cries of my children. I don't want them to look back and think, "God, Mom was such a bitch. She was so mean, so uncaring, so unloving." I want them to remember the good times, that I loved them with all my heart. But showing that love is so difficult when I can barely keep my head above water.
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