How?

I can't seem to settle myself down, for some reason or other. My brain is flying at a mile a minute, my insides are all stirred up like there's a tornado in my stomach, and my nerves just won't be calm. The things I'm thinking about and stressing over are lame, if you ask me, so why can't I let them go? Typical me. This is why I take the crazy pills.


Maybe a little rambling will do the body good. If I don't get some adult interaction soon I might just rip off my face. I took the kids, yes, all 3, to the library for Dr. Seuss' birthday celebration this morning. Since Dustin got called into work early this morning, everyone was up at the crack of dawn, so we did our best to beat the crowd. We managed to get hats for the girls, goodie bags, and balloons, Laila stood with the Cat in the Hat for a photo, and we checked out some new books after returning the ones we finished from yesterday. There were so many kids there I thought I might pass out. The second someone bumped into me, I knew we were done for. It's like that scene from Willy Wonka where Mrs. T.V. screams "Somebody's touching me!" I feel like that all the time, claustrophobic in my own skin, and if someone touches me, I'm done for.

There is laundry on the back of my couch, dishes in my sink, crumbs on the counter tops, and I just can't seem to get up to clean any of it. I clean every day, the same things, over and over, and somehow it's never clean how I left it. There is a mess in every room of this house, and not a single person has offered to help, yet everyone expects it to be done. Everyone wants food to eat, but no one wants to go shopping. Without clean clothes, no one would have anything to wear, but it's a fight to get anyone to put their own items away. It's stressing me out to the point where I'm almost in tears, all over some shirts and pants that need to be hung up.


Money is tight. Again. Imagine that. My husband works hour after hour so we can have the things we need, so how do I explain what he brought home isn't enough this time? It's heartbreaking to even think about having that conversation, knowing the next two weeks are going to be tight and the mere thought of going to even get gas is more than I can afford right now, but I need it so Laila can go to school each day. What do you give up? What doesn't get paid? How do you make that decision? I don't remember ever feeling like this before. We've always managed to get by, but this time, it feels like we're completely destitute. I know we have plenty of food, a house to live in, clothes to wear, diapers, formula, etc. but to know I can't even go to the store and pick up a single item and pay for it without over drafting my bank account makes it hard for me to breathe.

I want to take the kids to the park, let them run around and play, but the mere thought of loading them up is so exhausting I can't bring myself to do it. It's a fight, each one of them puts up their own roadblocks I spend way too much time fighting to knock down, by the time we arrive to the park, I'm ready to turn around and go back home. I know as soon as we start to play, they will be calling for me to push them or sit with them or just watch every move they make. I always thought the point of going and burning off energy was to get some time to be free, not to have mommy watch every your every step.

I feel as though I'm shutting doors inside, closing people out and turning myself off. I have nothing to share, and I don't feel like talking to anyone. I can sit here and blog, spill my feelings to the open nothing of the internet, but to talk to my husband pains me. I don't have anything nice to say, so I don't say anything at all. I'm tired. Just plain tired. I wish I had a better explaination, but I'm spent. I feel so disgusting inside and out. I feel fat, ugly, lazy, dumb, just terrible and awful. I need a pick me up, some magical juice I can drink that will transform how I see myself. I did the journal jar post today and all I could come up with were negative things to say about myself. Damaged. Broken. Loser. Lonely. Hurt. Lost. I don't know how I can love another unless I love myself, but how?