… or is it any wonder I think my blood pressure is about to explode.
Work all day including a meeting. Hyper-anxious about the next two days at work as important testing that I have organised for the whole team is being delivered. Students don’t seem to be bothered, a couple of the staff are either over needy or flat out disruptive.
I get home late, sort the kids out ready for bed and make dinner. I also spend one and a half hours on the computer trying (and failing) to get pictures off your phone and uploaded because you ‘desperately’ needed to make the calendars for next year. Go to bed late.
Up at 5.30am and out the door at 6.15. Massive anxiety about the day coming up mixed with more due to the fact I’m worried about the bloody photos on your phone and if I will be able to upload them that night. The day goes brilliantly but massively tiring and stressful. Then onto parents evening. Three and a half hours of talking to parents with barely a break including enduring a ten minute rant at me while trying to support another teacher. I get back home at 8.30pm to find I’m going back out to pick up my eldest and that you have made yourself some dinner but not me. I make my own and finally manage to upload the photos before going to bed late again.
Another early start to do the second stressful day of assessment. Very tiring, lots to do but manage it on time. Have to stay for a while but know I need to rush back due to boys going out to disco. The house is a tip so I tidy it up while looking after our own children and two others. I feed two of them, drop them off a the disco and the rest of the evening is spent cooking (the eldest is eating with us apparently so had to make something he liked and not something quick and easy), getting kids to bed, putting washing out, changing bed covers replacing bulbs and such until I go to bed at 11. Find out that you didn’t even do the calendars today.
I get up early with the kids at around 7.15. Sort the kitchen and give it a quick clean. All morning is spent ferrying kids to and from clubs. I fix the dresser lights, put the shopping away, get the decorations down, clean the kitchen, buy a Christmas tree, make lunch and a big family dinner, sort and put up decorations, tidy the loft and more. At 10.30pm I feel I have to ask permission to go up to bed.
Up at 7am as kids are desperate to go downstairs. Spend most of morning putting up lights, stockings, outdoor lights, hoovering, dusting, cleaning. All the while looking after kids and making breakfast etc. I take the little one to gym and go to see my Mum (who has changed her chemotherapy to a harsher type as the first didn’t work – I haven’t told you as I find it difficult to talk to you at the moment as you are so stressed by everything). I come back and do homework with all three kids. I make dinner, iron shirts, clean bedrooms and bathrooms, sort shoes, put the little one to bed (it took 1 hour), finish sorting lounge. Eventually wind up falling asleep at midnight.
All of this is not why my blood pressure rises and my mood lowers to the floor.
The way you speak to me is. Your face when I said I wouldn’t be able to fix a curtain pole today is. The condescending explanation of why it needs to be fixed is. The criticism of many of the things I do is. The lack of thanks is. The lack of help (like the fact you literally throw rubbish on the floor next to the bin) is. The insinuation that I don’t do enough is. The sly undermining of me in front of the kids is. The mocking of my attempts to explain why I’m unhappy is.
I don’t go out. I don’t go away with work for the weekend. I don’t have a hobby that takes me away for an afternoon. I now barely have any interest in games and films and music and sport as I’m too tired and, for some reason, I feel I don’t deserve it.
All I do, as evidenced by the last few days, is try and make yours and our kids lives easier. Make it run smoothly, try and keep everyone happy.
I know who I am. I know what I am. I know the big mistakes I have foolishly made in the past. I thought I had showed you I had moved past them over the past two years. I do everything I can to make it up to you and the kids but I’m not sure I ever can in your eyes.
I’m not sure what to do. I can drink to numb the pain as I have done in the past. That will keep me going a bit longer. But what then? I can leave but what would that do to you and the children. You said in the past you would manage but how on Earth? I can’t talk to you because you are not interested in what happens next. You are interested in winning the argument, apportioning the blame and I am just too tired to do fight you.
So I keep going. Battling through anxiety and depression everyday. Stuck here by my love of you and our children.
I’m just not sure for how much longer.