Is it morning already? I hardly slept last night, and my body feels like it’s been through a wringer. The alarm is about to go off, reminding me of what lies ahead. My bed is warm and comforting, and for now, no one needs me. Maybe I could hit snooze and just sleep a little longer? No, my partner needs to get to work and has to take our oldest to school.
There’s no reason to shower; the only place I need to go is to drop him off. That feels like wasted energy. Mornings are the toughest part of the day. They’re supposed to signify fresh starts, a chance to reset. But I know today will be the same as every other day, filled with too many choices and uncertainties.
Can my son buy lunch at school today? I haven’t restocked the bread, and his yogurt is past its expiration date. I really need to get to the grocery store. I haven’t done laundry either, and all he has left are a pair of ripped jeans and a shirt that’s too small for him. Why haven’t I bought him anything new?
I should probably whip up a hot breakfast. Is oatmeal from the microwave good enough? I dread carpool. My car is a mess; can they tell that I haven’t brushed my teeth or hair in days? Do they know I’m struggling with depression? I haven’t volunteered or signed up for the PTA.
I wonder if my youngest will let me just lie on the couch while he plays. Thank goodness he’s potty trained, so I don’t have to worry about diapers anymore. Oh no. I haven’t taken him to the park in weeks. He needs to socialize with other kids. But what if someone tries to talk to me? Libraries are quieter, and I don’t think I have any overdue book fees. I’ll likely spend the time chasing him down as he runs wild. Why haven’t I taught him library manners? Honestly, he’s probably the only toddler who runs around like that. We’ll just stay home today.
Maybe I’ll set up some paper and washable paint on the table. That should keep him busy for a bit. When is nap time? I sincerely hope he naps. I’m so exhausted. Perhaps he’ll snuggle with me while I rest and watch a movie. If he gets out of bed while I’m sleeping, I’ll hear him.
I should really unload the dishwasher; the sink is overflowing. Has it started to smell in here? Oh! A friend just posted about a Mommy and Me cooking class on Instagram. I should enroll. No, I did that once and it was $200 for classes we never attended. The drive was just too long. We can bake cookies tonight instead. Do I have all the ingredients? Is there even a clean cookie sheet? Ugh, grocery store again.
Did I return the field trip form for my oldest? They know I’m a stay-at-home mom, and I didn’t sign up to chaperone. I shouldn’t have said I wanted to volunteer at the parent-teacher conference. Now they know I don’t follow through. How will I explain to him why he can’t go?
He should start riding the bus home. If carpool sees me in my pajamas, they’ll know. Maybe he can stay home with me tomorrow. He can help watch his brother, and I could sleep a little longer. But that wouldn’t be fair to him. He needs to go to school, even if it would be easier for him to stay home. No way. He’d tell his dad, and I don’t want to deal with that conversation.
I’m so tired of helping with homework. Why does he need me to sit with him while he writes his spelling words? I just want to lie on the couch and catch up on my show.
Oh no, I forgot to pick up cookie dough for tonight. I’ll let them have popcorn instead. Ah! Popcorn and a movie. I can lie down and they’ll be entertained. Dinner is on my mind too. We can’t have a heavy meal if we’re having popcorn later. What to make? Scrambled eggs could work, right? They’re healthy and only need one pan. I’ll unload the dishwasher tomorrow. Coffee cups can serve as bowls; they’ll think it’s fun. I can just tell my partner it’s breakfast night! I haven’t cooked a proper meal in days. Maybe he’ll cook instead. No, he worked hard today. I’ll just call him to pick up something on his way home, and I hope he doesn’t notice the laundry pile or the toys scattered everywhere. I’ll tell him I had a terrible headache. He’ll understand.
Bathtime is here, but how can I bathe my child when I can’t even manage to clean myself? It takes energy I don’t have. Of course, my kids resist showers. If only they could entertain themselves for a bit; I’d love to soak in the tub for 30 minutes uninterrupted.
I’m feeling overwhelmed.
Bedtime rolls around. Please, go to bed on time. I’m utterly drained. I’d like to enjoy a movie night with your dad. And for once, could you sleep in your own bed all night? I’m tired of being touched. We haven’t been intimate in weeks. He’ll probably want to; doesn’t he notice I haven’t showered in days? I hope he falls asleep during the movie so I can avoid turning him down again. Maybe I can remind him I’ve had a headache today.
Someone needs to read the boys a bedtime story and start the laundry. There are no clean clothes left. I wonder if I can get him to do both. No, that wouldn’t be fair. I should have done the laundry. I’ll just wash what we need for tomorrow.
The youngest is awake again. He won’t settle down without me. Why do they always want me? I can’t do it all. I wasn’t ready for bed. He won’t stop crying; he’s going to wake up his brother. Netflix. I’ll put on a show for him, hoping he’ll drift off. Of course, it’s the same show he always wants. I never get to watch anything for myself. But that doesn’t matter; I’ll just close my eyes and sleep.
Sleep takes a while to come. I can’t help but replay my failures and anxieties. The struggles of today will repeat tomorrow, and I feel like tomorrow is already doomed. The weight of it all grows heavier. The fight becomes more difficult.
It feels impossible to be a decent parent while battling these feelings. They magnify my shortcomings, and the brightness of that light makes it almost unbearable to see beyond it. It steals my ability to thrive.
I can’t do this alone anymore. I hope my partner won’t feel embarrassed about my struggles. Will he encourage me to reach out for help? I need assistance. Maybe my mom can take me if he’s at work.
Deep down, I know I might not go. But I need to. I need help. I really need help. Please, I need help. Don’t make me face this alone anymore.
As I finally drift off, I know my depression will still be there in the morning.
In summary, this piece reflects the overwhelming thoughts of a mother grappling with depression, detailing the challenges of daily parenting tasks while feeling inadequate and exhausted. It illustrates the internal struggle of seeking help while managing the responsibilities of motherhood.