Is it morning already? I barely slept, and my body feels like it has been through a marathon. The alarm clock is set to ring any moment, reminding me that another day is here. My bed is so cozy, and for now, no one seems to need me. Maybe I could just hit snooze and drift off again? But no, my partner, Jake, has to leave for work and can’t manage the school drop-off for our oldest, Max.
Mornings are a challenge. They’re meant to symbolize fresh starts, yet they often feel like a repetition of yesterday. Too many decisions loom ahead. Should I let Max buy lunch at school? I realize there’s no bread, and his yogurt is past its expiration date. Grocery shopping is a must.
The laundry pile is still waiting for me, and Max only has a pair of torn jeans and a shirt that doesn’t fit him anymore. Why haven’t I bought him new clothes? I should probably whip up a hot breakfast. Is microwave oatmeal acceptable?
I dread the carpool. My car is a mess—can they tell I haven’t showered or brushed my hair in days? Do they know about my depression? I still haven’t signed up for the PTA or volunteered at school events.
Will my youngest, Leo, let me relax on the couch while he plays? I’m grateful he’s potty trained, so I don’t have to change diapers. But I realize I haven’t taken him to the park in weeks. He needs to socialize, but what if someone tries to talk to me? The library is quieter; maybe we’ll go there. Though I can already picture the chaos when Leo runs around, making it hard for me to settle.
I could set up some art supplies on the table to keep him occupied. Nap time is the ultimate goal. I hope he sleeps—I’m completely drained. If I’m lucky, he might cuddle next to me while I rest and watch a movie.
Oh, the dishwasher needs unloading, and the sink is full of dishes. Has my house developed a smell? My friend just posted about a Mommy and Me cooking class on social media. I should sign up, but I remember the last time I did that—it was a waste of money, and we never went. We could bake cookies tonight instead. Do I have the ingredients? Is the cookie sheet clean? I need to shop for groceries.
Did I return Max’s field trip form? They know I’m a stay-at-home mom, and my lack of volunteering might disappoint him. He’ll be hurt if I make up excuses for not going. Maybe he should start taking the bus home. If he stays home with me tomorrow, he could help watch Leo, and I could catch up on sleep. But that wouldn’t be fair to Max.
I’m drained from helping him with homework. Why can’t he do this on his own? I just want to collapse on the couch and finish my show.
I forgot to grab cookie dough—maybe I’ll let them have popcorn instead. That could keep them entertained, allowing me to lie down for a bit.
Dinner needs to be made, but with popcorn planned for later, I should keep it light. Scrambled eggs sound fun—just one pan to clean! If only I had the energy to unload the dishwasher. Instead, I’ll use coffee mugs as bowls. I’ll tell Jake it’s breakfast night. I haven’t prepared a decent meal in ages, and maybe he’ll opt to bring something home. I just hope he overlooks the laundry piled high and the toys scattered everywhere. I’ll say I had a bad headache. He’ll understand.
It’s bath time. How can I bathe Leo when I haven’t bathed myself? It takes effort, and my arms ache. Showers should be quick, yet my kids resist. If only they could play independently for a bit.
I feel overwhelmed.
Bedtime approaches. Please, sleep well. I want to enjoy a movie with Jake, and for heaven’s sake, could you stay in your own beds tonight? I’m so tired of physical contact; intimacy has been absent for weeks. Jake might want to be close, but how can he not notice my neglect of basic hygiene? Maybe he’ll fall asleep during the movie, and I won’t have to turn him down again.
Someone needs to read to the boys and tackle the laundry. I can’t believe none of them have clean clothes. I wonder if I can convince Jake to do both. But that wouldn’t be fair—this is my responsibility. I’ll wash only what we need for tomorrow.
Leo is up again, crying. He won’t go back to sleep without me. Why can’t I catch a break? It’s always me they want. I wasn’t ready for bed yet, and I can’t stand the noise. Netflix—let’s see if that will lull him to sleep. Of course, he wants to watch the same show again. I can never choose anything for myself.
Sleep is elusive. My mind loops through the day’s failures and worries. Tomorrow feels like an uphill battle, even before it begins. The weight of it all is suffocating. It’s hard to be a decent parent while grappling with these feelings. They only magnify my shortcomings, making it difficult to see beyond the fog.
I can’t manage this alone anymore. I hope Jake won’t be disappointed. Will he encourage me to seek support? Maybe my sister can help if he’s working.
But deep down, I know I’ll hesitate to reach out. I need help, I really do. Please, let’s not continue this way anymore.
As I finally drift off, I know my depression will still be there when morning comes. For more insights on managing motherhood and mental health, visit this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination.
In the end, the challenges remain, but acknowledging them is the first step toward healing.
Summary:
This piece explores the overwhelming thoughts and feelings of a mother battling depression. It captures her struggles with daily responsibilities, parenting challenges, and the desire for support, while also highlighting the importance of seeking help and understanding the mental health journey.