I have friends who tell me what a great mom they think I am. What I find even weirder than that, is that they read this blog. They have to know the truth, right?
I spent half an hour trying to mediate an argument between my daughters tonight, where I ended up yelling at Piper because I couldn't deal with her complaints, until we'd dealt with other things first.
I've had Ciaran in time-out 3 times since lights out because he won't stop kicking the door. He can't tell me why he's doing it, but I'm simply out of ideas for how to make him stop.
Now Quinn is crying because I made him get back into bed.
The girls aren't fighting anymore, but they're not playing quietly. I don't think they're picking up like I told them to, either.
I feel completely overstimulated and overloaded, and I can't seem to get centered enough to ground myself, because there's never a pause in the action.
Motherhood is kicking my ass. For serious.
I haven't written anything here in three months. I've had so much to say. So much rattling around inside my brain. But I couldn't get it out because I've been mired in a depression that's made it difficult for me to get through a whole day without going back to bed at some point.
I'm taking charge. I'm working on it. But depression is a mean bitch, and she and I have been fighting this fight for years. I win. I always win. But she never fights fair, and I usually take a beating in the process. Sometimes I wonder if our dance will ever be over. And I wonder what my children will take from these times when I'm fighting her hardest. I think mostly they'll remember how tired it made me.
I'm going to come back and write more. I have actual thoughts that I think other people might want to read. Thoughts that I'd like to put down for myself to remember. But I couldn't start until I'd shared why I stopped. Fighting depression occasionally takes too much of my attention.