I don’t know how working mothers do it. I honestly don’t. I’m not suggesting that working fathers don’t live stressful lives either, however, the burden generally lies with the mother.

I took for granted how relatively simple my life was. I had my stressors, I had some responsibility with mum, but it was largely a ‘do what I want’ kind of life.

I feel as though I’ve been open and honest with my emotional process and my state of being in the past few months, I mean, I blog about it now and all.  What that’s done though is create an expectation, an expectation that people know how I’m going to react when something happens. Or a misconception that my thought process is normal and not at all fucked up.

I’ve had a really bad few months and I’m trying, yeah?

Mum was admitted to hospital again, this time for a few days instead of overnight. It was terrifying, it always is though. Life kept going; Mia still needed to be looked after, dogs fed, work tended to, obligations kept. The same familiar faces put their hands up to help. It was, and is still, appreciated. That was crisis mode though, what now? I still work over 40 hours per week, mum is still sick but getting better, Mia is a 6-year-old with boundless energy.

I’m sick of crisis mode. I am. I’m exhausted by it all. Someone suggested to me a couple of months ago, that I was jaded, that the world is a magnificent place and there is beauty in everything. I don’t disagree, let me emphasise this, I am not depressed; trust me; I know the difference. I love life, I just want more of an opportunity to love it.

Mia has seemed to regress a bit since mum was admitted to hospital, I probably regressed too. I’ve been displaying behaviours that I don’t like displaying anymore.

That’s what happens though, isn’t it?

When things turn to shit in your life, or when it gets inexplicably harder, we keep moving forward. We complain, we vent, we make random blog posts or cryptic Facebook posts, hoping that someone out there has some magical fucking cure that will solve all our problems.

That doesn’t exist.

In reality, I get annoyed by peoples perceived understanding of my mental state, or the look. You know the look; head tilted to the side, eyes wide with concern “But how are you really?”

I’m a fucking mess. I’m held together by coffee, sticky tape and obligations and that has to be enough right now.

You think I don’t want to break down and cry? I do, but that takes more effort than I can afford it.

And, you go on auto-pilot. Life falls apart around you and you hold it together, but it’s the aftermath that hurts. It’s when everything is meant to be normal, and you’re still trying to figure out what the heck normal is now. It’s a 6-year-old, a sick mum, a house that’s falling apart, a job that requires more bandwidth than you can give, friends that you miss and it is emotional exhaustion. That’s my normal.

So you’ll ask, and I’ll tell you; I am doing OK. I’ll even joke about being exhausted, and you’ll laugh with me because as a society we accept that exhausted is an acceptable state to be in.

I just. I want to press pause. I want to be able to take 2 months and spend them by myself. I want to read books, watch TV shows, write. I want to exist in a normalcy which I no longer feel.

And now I breathe deeply. I take stock of what I have, I remain grateful for those who have helped and I try to make changes where I can. I am still shockingly hilarious. I’m starting a new job soon, and I’m trying to take control of my life again.

I know what’s important and I know that I’m not perfect. I will continue to make mistakes and I am OK with this. I’m not asking for help and guidance (not right now anyway).

I have nothing witty or insightful to end this on. My hat goes off to those who live in a constant state of chaos. Whose lives are filled with obligations that sometimes feel unfair. Those who shoulder the burden so others don’t have to. The people who, when faced with hard times, just keep going.

Those who don’t rely on a silly blog to have a breakdown 😉

Peace out.

Tan