Is it morning already? I barely caught any sleep last night, and my body feels like it’s been through a marathon. The alarm clock is about to go off, another reminder of the responsibilities waiting for me. My bed is so warm and inviting; it’s the only place where no one demands anything from me yet. Maybe I could just turn off the alarm and sleep a little longer? But no, my partner has to head to work and can’t take our oldest to school.
Showering feels pointless today; there’s nowhere to go except to drop off the kids at school. All that effort seems wasted. Mornings are tough. They’re supposed to symbolize fresh starts—a chance to reset. But deep down, I know today will be just like every other day, filled with overwhelming decisions and creeping doubts.
Is it alright if my son buys lunch at school? We’re out of bread, and his yogurt is past its expiration date. I need to hit the grocery store. I haven’t done laundry, and he’s down to just a pair of ripped jeans and a shirt that’s too small. Why haven’t I bought him new clothes? I should make him a proper breakfast, but is oatmeal from the microwave good enough?
I dread carpool. My car is a mess. Can they tell I haven’t brushed my teeth or hair in days? Do they suspect I’m dealing with depression? I haven’t signed up for the PTA or volunteered at school.
I wonder if my youngest will let me lie on the couch while he plays. Thank goodness he’s potty trained; at least I don’t have to deal with diapers. But I haven’t taken him to the park in weeks. He needs to socialize. What if someone tries to talk to me? The library is a safer option; I don’t think I have any overdue fees. Yet, I know I’ll just end up chasing after him as he runs around. How come I’ve never taught him library manners? No, we’ll just stay home today.
Maybe I’ll put some paper and washable paints on the table to keep him entertained for a while. When is nap time? I really hope he naps. I’m so tired. Perhaps he’ll lie down with me while I sleep and watch a movie. If he doesn’t get out of bed, I’ll hear him if he tries.
I should unload the dishwasher; the sink is overflowing. I haven’t swept in days. Is my house starting to smell? Oh! I saw a friend post about a Mommy and Me cooking class on social media. I should sign up, right? No, last time it cost $200 for several classes, and we never went because the drive was too long. We’ll just bake cookies tonight. Do I have enough ingredients? Do I even have a clean cookie sheet? I’ll have to clean the kitchen first. Ugh, grocery store again.
Did I return my oldest’s field trip form? They know I’m a stay-at-home mom, yet I didn’t sign up to help out. I shouldn’t have mentioned wanting to volunteer at the parent-teacher conference. She knows I don’t follow through. This will hurt his feelings. I’ll need to come up with an excuse for him not going.
He should start riding the bus home instead. Carpool will see me still in my pajamas. Maybe he can stay home with me tomorrow. He can help watch his brother, allowing me to catch up on sleep. But why would I do that to him? He needs to go to school, even if it’s easier for him to stay home. No, he’ll just tell his dad, and I don’t want to deal with that confrontation.
I’m so exhausted from helping my son with homework. Why does he need me to sit with him while he writes out his spelling words? I just want to collapse on the couch and finish my show.
Darn it. I forgot to get cookie dough for tonight. I’ll let them snack on popcorn instead. Ah! Popcorn and a movie. I can lie down while they’re entertained.
Dinner needs to be sorted out. We’re having popcorn later, so I can’t go heavy on the starches. Ugh, I still haven’t unloaded the dishwasher. Scrambled eggs? That’s easy and healthy—just one pan. I’ll unload the dishwasher tomorrow. We can use coffee cups as bowls; they’ll think that’s fun. I’ll just tell my partner it’s breakfast night! I haven’t made a proper meal in days. Maybe he’ll cook. No, he worked hard today, so I’ll call and ask him to pick up food on the way home. I hope he doesn’t notice the laundry pile or the toys spread all over the house. I forgot to wipe up the juice my toddler spilled. I’ll just say I had a terrible headache. He’ll understand.
It’s bath time. How can I bathe my child when I can’t even manage to bathe myself? It takes so much focus. My arms ache with every little task. Of course, my kids don’t like showering. If only I could just sit in the bathtub for 30 minutes without interruptions.
I can’t breathe.
Bedtime. Please go to bed on time. I’m worn out. I want to watch a movie with your dad. And for goodness’ sake, try to sleep in your own bed tonight.
I’m so tired of being touched. We haven’t been intimate in weeks. He’ll want to. Does he not notice I haven’t showered in days? Maybe he’ll fall asleep while we watch the movie, and I won’t have to turn him down again. I can just remind him that I had a headache today.
Someone needs to read the boys a bedtime story and start the laundry. No one has clean clothes. 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 go back to sleep without me. It’s always me they want. I’m never alone. Why are they so selfish? I can’t handle everything. I wasn’t ready for bed. He won’t stop crying, and I’m worried he’ll wake up his brother. Netflix it is. I’ll turn on a show, and hopefully he’ll drift off. Of course, he wants to watch that same show again. I can never enjoy anything. It doesn’t matter. I’ll just go to sleep.
Sleep comes slowly. There are always more failures to ponder and worries to dissect. The day’s struggles replay in my mind. Tomorrow is already shrouded in dread. The weight of it all grows heavier, the fight gets tougher.
Being a decent mom while grappling with this internal battle feels nearly impossible. It magnifies my failures. The spotlight burns so bright that it’s hard to see beyond it and into reality. It steals my ability to flourish.
I can’t do this alone anymore. I hope my partner won’t be disappointed. Will he encourage me to reach out for help? I need assistance. Maybe my mom can take me if he’s at work.
But deep down, I know I won’t go. Still, I need to go. I need help. I need help. Please, I need help. Don’t make me shoulder this anymore.
As I finally drift off to sleep, I know my depression will still be waiting for me in the morning.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, you’re not alone. It’s important to reach out for support. For more information on family-building options, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination. And if you’re considering at-home insemination, you can find reputable kits from online retailers like this one.
Summary:
The daily struggles of a mother battling depression can feel overwhelming and isolating. From the pressures of morning routines to the emotional toll of parenting, the weight of expectations can become unbearable. It’s crucial to recognize that help is available, and reaching out can make a significant difference in navigating these challenges.
Leave a Reply