It's 4:30am. This has been our week:
FD worked 12/hour shifts everyday for over a week.
FD got the flu.
FD's car broke down on the freeway.
FD's phone broke.
Someone stole my ATM information and drained my checking and savings account. So the first real paycheck we've had in over 3.5 years was stolen.
Froggy and I stood in line for over 3 hours for the H1N1 vaccine.
I wake up at 6:30am with the Frog and work every second til I drop asleep at night. It feels impossible and hopeless. There are always dishes in the sink and laundry piled over the hamper.
Tonight was one of those nights I'd like expunged from my record as a human being. I ranted, I complained, I yelled, I cried, I blamed. At a time where I need love the most, I am the most unlovable. I would run away from me if I could. I would roll my eyes and head for the door.
There is a breaking point. There is.
I'm sick of being a charity case. I'm sick of needing help. I'm sick of horrible things happening to our family. I'm sick of thinking things have to get better and being disappointed when they don't. I'm sick of things getting worse and worse and worse. I am in the bell jar.
And tomorrow I have to get up (It's now 5am, I guess I am up) and smile and make up for the jerk parent, the jerk person I was last night. And I have to walk through my day feeling the guilt of breaking down, of being angry at so many things.
It seems like we're always in reach of a better life, but the second we try to grab it, it disappears. And the thing I want more than anything is for someone to understand, truly understand what this feels like, to walk through this muck with me, to tell me that big lie that everyone needs to hear, "Everything will be okay." Of course it won't. Life is constantly in flux and more horrible things will happen, but for some reason I'd settle for that big lie right now.