thoughts on being a mess

You know how when a bunch of little nothings all amount to what feels like big fucking somethings and the weight of all those nothings-turned-into-somethings finally breaks any ability you typically have to maintain any semblance of perspective?


Because that's me right now, shoulders actively bowing down under the weight of life occasionally being a real son of a bitch. 


While the finer details of all those said nothings aren't even worth their weight to get into here, they are still enough of something to mentally and emotionally wear on me because I'm human. When they're then compounded by Edie coming down with a case of hand, foot, and mouth disease, I am not only human but I become a human bound to lose her shit.


And I did.


As I sat at my desk on the phone with one of my best friends this morning, the levy broke and I unloaded, tears streaming down my face for no reason and for every reason. I typically pride myself on being able to keep life in perspective during the days that require more effort than others, always making a point to remind myself that it could be worse and, for many people, it is. Sometimes, though, a girl just needs a good ugly cry in her best friend's empathetic ear in order to pull herself together.


But, for fuck's sake, Life. Give a girl (and her littlest girl) a break, will you? 


I live under the assumption that things going wrong is simply par for the course of life. I also know that I can't always fix whatever is going wrong and that's okay with me. Usually, anyway. 

Motherhood is the one area of my life where not being able to fix whatever is wrong isn't and never will be an easy pill to swallow. Feeling helpless as a mother feels cruel, like pouring salt in an already open and incredibly vulnerable wound. Lately with Edie, it's only felt as if I've been sitting outside of that realm of control and, admittedly, I'm struggling with that. Not because I'm a control freak but, rather, because I can't find anything to grasp onto for balance when shit is hitting the proverbial fan. It's making me dizzy. And tired. Very, very tired.


All of this is, I guess, just to say that I'm human and sometimes need to talk about it. And that life is hard. It's even harder when your kid is sick (again) and people are assholes. 


Here's to trekking through the trenches of motherhood, the dear and empathetic ears willing to listen, and bless all of the wine consumed in the process...