Tapped Out

As you know, we've all been pretty busy.  However, I have really been having a hard time keeping up lately.  I am a "push through it, we'll rest when we're dead" kind of person.  Lately, I've been feeling like I'm just about there, which is a problem.  I would never say I'm a patient person, but I have been exceptionally bad lately.  I've been very snappy and very anxious as of late.  I've been having trouble sleeping.  I've been having digestive issues.  I've been EXHAUSTED.  I have been feeling tapped out. 

This weekend was a low point for me.  On Saturday I took the kids out of the house for most of the day so Papa could study in solitude.  I was incredibly short tempered from the very start.  Just getting out of the house seemed like a battle.  Get your shoes on!  Get your coat!  Why are we having to do this ten times!?!  We finally got out and about, but I was still incredibly edgy.  I was driving the "new" car that we just got back from having minor repairs made, only to realize they didn't fix the sunroof and the entire roof of the car was wet, with water dripping from the dvd player.  That didn't help calm me.  As the day went on, I felt my chest getting tighter and tighter.  I felt like crying.  I was incredibly anxious.  We got home.  Papa had been in touch with the dealership during the day about the sunroof and I was asking him questions.  I needed him to get to the chase and answer them - Mama doesn't have time for long stories.  He snapped at me to just let him finish.  I lost it.  I screamed.  I yelled.  I threw stuff.  I went upstairs, stripped down, got in the shower and cried.  I cried and I prayed.  I cried because I didn't know what was wrong with me.  I cried because I had reached my limit.  I cried because all I wanted to do was be alone and all I wanted to do was hug my babies - all at the same time.  I cried because I felt that I give so much of me to the kids and the family and keeping everything going that there was nothing left of me.  There was nothing.  I was nothing.  I prayed for the strength to keep pushing along.  I prayed for clarity.  I prayed for me to figure out what the heck was wrong with me.  I prayed that I wasn't really, truly, tapped out.

Papa came up.  He told me to take all the time I needed - but I couldn't.  I had to make dinner and get everyone set.  He said he would take care of it.  I tried to explain how I was feeling - he didn't understand.  How could he understand?  I didn't even understand.  There was more yelling and I went back to my then cold shower.  I wrapped it up, got dressed, went downstairs and made dinner.  I went through the motions, did my tasks and then went to bed, even though it felt like my heart was pounding and I was a ball of anxiety.  The next day I didn't feel any better.  I said we were going to skip church for a mental health day.  I needed to shake out of it.  Why did I feel like crying? Why was I so tired?  I can't do what needs to be done feeling like this.  My usual "snap out of it" methods weren't working.

As I nursed our son before his nap, it hit me.  My son is 17 months old and I STILL don't have my period back.  Yes - 17 months, plus 9 months of pregnancy - I haven't had a period since 2011. TMI?  Not when you're in a "medical" family. In the last two weeks I have stopped any night time nursing and he has gone from two naps to one.  His nursing has basically been cut in half.  I remember my mood swings and hormones were really unpleasant towards the end of nursing with my daughter, but nothing like this.  I had gotten my cycle back at around 9-12 months with her and nursed 7-9 months after that, so I think that helped.  I remembered an article someone posted in a parent's group that I'm in about depression/anxiety while weaning.  That is exactly what is going on.  I'm basically going through a momentary postpartum depression/anxiety while my hormones level out.  I forwarded it to my husband since, of course, I was browsing on my phone while nursing our son.  We went for a long walk/bike ride that afternoon as a family.  Being in the sun and moving helped me immensely.  I realized that I hadn't worked out at all on Friday and Saturday, and I had felt progressively worse those days.  That evening, I asked my husband what his treatment plan would be for someone in my position - exercise, sun and socializing 'till everything levels out.  There is always medication....but that is not a route I am personally comfortable with, especially knowing it should be a temporary thing.

I had hoped I would wake up feeling better today, since I've now realized what the issue is.  I didn't.  So, I rounded up the kids, packed up some snacks, and I went to therapy.

Nature's very own antidepressant.

The Little Things

My husband is a busy man these days.  He is completing his Masters at Georgetown, while working full time and supporting our family.  He is typically up and at work (or clinicals, which is seeing patients in an office under the supervision of a registered NP, without pay of course) by 7 am.  He is then on his feet all day (his "day job" is an OR Nurse) and gets off around  7:30pm, sometimes later.  He then comes home, peeks in to kiss the kids goodnight, staying with our daughter for a bit if she happens to still be awake.  He then scarfs down whatever leftovers are waiting for him and either chats with me for a couple minutes or goes right to studying.  He typically goes to bed around midnight or later.  So, yeah, I think that qualifies him as busy. 

Things didn't always used to be this way.  When we first got married he was finishing up his Associates in Nursing.  He already had a Bachelor's in Art, but decided he wanted to do something different.  He was going to school full time, working one day a week doing bathroom design, and I worked full time.  His parent's paid for his school and supplemented his income, but we left that money in savings and lived off of my earnings.  I was the head of the household.  I was supporting us.  I also did my fair share (I would have told you it was actually more) of cleaning and "housekeeping".  He eventually graduated and got a job as an RN.  Our incomes were basically even at that point.  Then, along came a kid.  I switched to working 4 days a week and he also worked four tens, so each of us was home one day a week with our daughter and she only needed care three times a week.  We paid my Mother to watch her those three days a week until my Mother returned to her "school year" job.  That was when we realized I needed to be home with her.  We needed the extra income though.  So - I made it happen.  I got licensed to do home day care and opened my own childcare business.  I went from finance to child care.  That was a big change.  But I made it happen. We had extra cash coming in and I got to guarantee my daughter was getting the care and attention I felt was necessary, even if it meant 12 hr days 5 days a week.  That has always been my role in our relationship - I MAKE THINGS HAPPEN.  If my husband has expressed a dream - I try to make it a reality.  You want to be an RN?  Let's make it happen.  You want to live around mountains and wildlife?  Let's make it happen. You want to be a rural care Nurse Practitioner?  Let's make it happen.

My husband had mentioned moving "west" several times.  He wanted to live in nature, away from big cities.  He wanted me to be able to stay at home and not HAVE to bring in extra income.  He had even packed away things we barely used and put them in the basement because he really wanted to do it.  We talked about it but life went on.  Were we really going to leave our home state?  Were we really going to leave our families?  With a child and dog and owning two properties? I still remember the night I said - Well, let's make it happen.  We were doing our nightly walk with our daughter and dog, walking through the Downtown area that we lived in.  I had an "aha" moment earlier that week.  Quitting my job and starting a day care business had been a huge risk, but the payoff had been great.  The biggest risks really can bring the biggest rewards. So, let's move.  Let's see what happens.  Let's try it.  He agreed.  So, long story short, we ended up in Idaho, with me at home with our children, and him pursuing his dream of opening a rural clinic.

I take care of everything on the home front.  Everything.  All those little things that make a household run.  He has been taking care of the big things.  Work and school.  I will be honest that I have often found myself annoyed when I find dishes left on the table, or dirty clothes dumped next to the bed.  Could he really not make the effort to put them in the sink or put the clothes in the dirty clothes pile?  Yes, he is working non stop, but so am I.  I don't get a break either, right?  I'm making this place run, I'm making it possible for him to not have to worry about anything at home, couldn't he do a little thing here or there?  I give so much of myself, between the kids and keeping this ship afloat.  Can't he do some of the little things sometimes?

Today I had another "Aha" moment.  We recently bought a "new" vehicle and the dealer gave us a loaner to use while they fixed some minor things.  My husband took that to work so I wouldn't have to worry about installing the car seats in it.  We had gymnastics today.  I loaded the kids into their car seats and hopped in the driver's seat.  I went to put the key in and stopped.  The car was full of wrappers.  The dashboard was all dusty.  There were coffee spills.  I wanted to cry.  Tears came to my eyes.  This man has always kept his cars spotless.  It is one of those things that has always mattered to him.  He cleans out MY car whenever he rides in it.  But his car was a mess.  He has stopped doing that one little thing for himself, that I know matters so much to him, so that he can do all of these big things for us.  He is making things happen.  He has stepped up to the plate and HE is making things happen.  It reminded me that I am not the only one giving every last once of myself to this family - he is too.  He has given up doing the little things so that he can do the big things.

So, after our morning errands we did what we should.  We cleaned up the inside of the car and filled the gas tank.  We took care of some of the little things so Papa can focus on the big things.

He did apparently have one little thing in there for himself. 

 A note I left him almost a year ago.

After all, it's the little things.

The Moment

I would describe myself as a strong woman.  I suspect those that know me would as well.  Strong physically, mentally and emotionally.  That's not to say I don't have my moments, but we all do.  Weak, meek and passive are not terms that would most likely be used to refer to me.  I've had a job since I was 15, working full time during the summers as a lifeguard.  I've worked in food service. I've worked in fitness. I've worked in finance.  All while going to school at the same time.  I eventually worked in childcare and now I work at home.  I was the poster child for "Strong Women".  I even tried to go to a meeting for football tryouts when I was in high school. I could do ANYTHING.  I am woman, hear me roar.  Would I consider myself a feminist?  Not a modern feminist.  Something always struck me as off with that......

I remember the moment that I fully realized the damage that modern feminism has done.  I was sitting with my then almost 3 year old daughter.  We had welcomed our son into the world a couple months earlier.  We were sitting and playing and we somehow got talking about professions.  We talked about what her Papa does (an OR Nurse) and I asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up.  Her response?  "I want to be a Mommy!"  Want to know what my initial reaction was?  "Oh, no, I mean what job do you want to have when you grow up?" I didn't say it, but I thought it.  I actually thought that.  This little girl sees Motherhood as a wonderful, important role and that is what she wants to do when she grows up and my initial thought was that it wasn't a "real" job.  And it's MY job!  Sure, it might not happen.  She might not have children.  She might not be a Mommy.  But how many kids say they want to be an astronaut or president or police officer and that doesn't happen either?  We still encourage them and tell them to go for it.  Why would it be any different if they say they want to stay at home and focus all of their efforts on raising, teaching and loving their (or someone else's) children?

Modern feminism has made us feel that Motherhood is not good enough.  It is not a valid "career" choice.  Men can't be Mother's, so it isn't an arena where we can exert our "equality" so it isn't worth focusing our efforts on.  Instead of embracing the differences of the sexes and promoting ALL of our strengths, we've somehow belittled women EVEN MORE and deemed the only worthy pursuits to be the one's that Men do too.  How screwed up is that?  While "empowering" women, we've belittled them. 

How can raising and shaping the next generation not be a worthy career choice?  How have we gotten to this point?  Without even getting into the massive amount of work being a stay at home Mother is, you're shaping and molding and nurturing the future firefighters, surgeons, biologists, teachers, mothers and fathers. If you have children and work outside the home, you have to outsource the care and raising of the children, right?  That simple fact should show that Motherhood is a job and that it should be viewed as a respectible career choice.

My initial reaction to my daughter's response really disgusted me.  It was a huge moment of self reflection and deciding what was really important to us - to ME.  If I REALLY feel that my daughter can do ANYTHING - that includes being a Mommy.  Am I really respecting MYSELF if that was my reaction? I had to do lots of reflection after that moment.  I am at a point now that I am more at peace with my role at home, with my children.

Do I call myself a feminist?
No.

I am Mama.
Hear me roar.


If your child told you that is what they wanted to be when they grew up - what would be your first thought?

Where we'll stop, nobody knows.

We're on a journey.  A journey to find our home.  I use that term loosely.  "Home is where the heart is" blah, blah, blah.  Yes, yes, I'm aware.  That is why we are on this journey TOGETHER.  As a FAMILY.  Navigating the bumps and cliffs along the road as a team.  Making sure our "home" is hospitable to all of us.  Us.  My husband.  My children.  Me. Not society. Not the cultural norms.  Not even how our families feel it should be.  This is our rugged road home.

Years ago, my husband and I realized we lived where we lived because that happened to be where we were born and where we grew up.  That didn't mean we belonged there.  It didn't mean we fit in there.  We had our first child.  Things changed.  We had to decide how we really felt about things rather than letting the world tell us how we felt.  We had purpose.  We had responsibility.  We had some changes to make.

Oh boy, did we make some changes.  We packed up, sold our properties and moved cross country.  Leaving behind our friends and family.  Not knowing ANYONE here.  Being halfway through another pregnancy.  We risked everything for, well, everything.  My husband didn't even have a job secured until a month before our move. I became a stay at home mother.  Most of our savings went towards dumping our properties and paying for our move.  We didn't have much of a safety net financially or socially.  But this is what we wanted.  This was our first giant step towards finding our home.

We have made so many discoveries, sacrifices, realizations and changes along the way.  Each one making us feel closer and closer to home.  Closer to discovering where we should be.  Closer to discovering how we really feel.  Closer to discovering our purpose.

I need to share these lessons, discoveries, realizations, sacrifices, pains, joys with someone.  Everyone.  Will you join me on our rugged road home?

~CMK