It seems as though my get up and go has gotten tangled up in the struggle; my overwhelming list of things I need to accomplish.
When I say need I really mean NEED and not want.
I WANT to find a hairdresser and get my dead ends cut off; it has been over a year since a professional touched my hair and this pregnancy is not favoring the weeks that I go without washing. Washing natural African-American hair is time-consuming. I do not have time.
I WANT to sit down with my daughters and color. Play board games. Have tea parties and play dress up and do each others hair. I want to pull out the couch bed and pop popcorn and watch a silly animated movie.
But first I’d NEED to get the six loads of clean laundry off the couch and folded and into drawers. I need to run another load of dishes before we run out of spoons. I need to take a shower…not sure how long it has been. I need to do my schoolwork…
I NEED to sleep. But even on the weekends, when I should have more time for peace and should worry less because I don’t have to wake up at 5am to get everyone up and out the door on time for class, I cannot sleep. I have not been able to sleep properly since The Big Incident, but lately it is worse than ever. I sit around like a zombie, always tired, but never able to settle down. When I do sleep, I have these terribly vivid and horrific dreams. He is always in them. He is always in control. Upon waking I feel like I have just finished the fight of my life. Sleeping is more exhausting than staying awake.
I feed and bathe my daughters. I read to them – we’ve recently read almost every book in the Skippyjon Jones series and the How Do Dinosaurs (do various things) series several times each. I take them to their appointments and therapy sessions and sports lessons and educational programs. They are the focus of all of my energy.
I have no energy for me. I NEED to focus on me, because she’s inside of me, my growing baby. I am now 28 weeks pregnant, and she is growing steadily, healthily, and I’m hoping she comes out nice and chubby. But still, I cannot find the energy: to sleep, to complete my grad school assignments, to rid myself of my preoccupation with my husband. Why should I care about him? Why should I give him the satisfaction? I’m almost certain he’s not thinking about me. He is probably already wooing some other woman. And why should I care if he is with somebody? He DOES NOT LOVE me! But I do care…and I do worry, and I am afraid that he has already replaced me, and it still hurts, even though he has hurt me.
I am not certain that I need to weep, but maybe that would help me. I hear that crying is healthy, but I’ve always considered it a sign of being weak. I hate that once I start crying I find it hard to stop; I hate the lingering headache, the animal noises that come along with crying fits; the wetness. I haven’t cried since The Big Incident; I’ve been too busy with making ends meet, taking care of my babies, and not utterly failing at life, but maybe I can find some time to weep this week. Yes…I’ll have to schedule in crying. Maybe I’ll cry myself to sleep.