I’m fighting a bad case of the “if only” blues today… My husband has to work on the weekend- again, which leaves me holding more than my fair share of family work. Work that he knows that he’s missing, work that he would love to be here for- but work nonetheless.
And I’m tired.
I’m tired of the drama. I’m tired of fighting with my son to eat. I’m tired of trying to keep everything clean and everyone fed. I’m tired of knowing that we can do something fun, and it will end badly because the children are out of sorts. We went to the beach- great fun- and I had to be the one to drag everything home because Elizabeth was melting down because the sand was rubbing her and sending her into sensory hell, and Ray was hungry and in a black mood because he doesn’t transition well. I’m tired of navigating the children’s friendships because they need me to run interference and explain things to them, to others, to parents. I’m tired of worrying about the dog’s allergies and the fact that she needs to be exercised.
I’m tired of living in a place that is beautiful but that doesn’t have a therapist, a specialist or a pediatric psychiatrist closer than an hour and a half away. I’m tired of having my friends 10-24 hours away. I’m tired of not being able to talk to my friends on the phone because the children might overhear. I’m tired of not being able to develop the few friends I have here because the axis of work and home keeps me tethered. I’m tired of doing a mediocre job at so many things. I’m not of not having time with my husband. I’m tired of not being able to find a babysitter because we’re too new and too different and the cost of finding someone willing to overlook these things is too prohibitive. I’m tired of being alone.
And so the “If Only”s come crawling into my head- if only we lived somewhere else closer to civilization. If only my family and friends were closer. If only my husband wasn’t so panicked about losing his job in these tough economic times. If only my children weren’t so needy. If only I had a different, non-allergic dog. If only I had time to clean the garage, lose those 30 pounds, and finish that crocheted afghan I’ve been working on for 2 years now. If only I could go back to Oxford or Ireland where I got to live in the moment and not worry about planning. If only we had a housekeeper.
And I know that this will be better tomorrow. That this is life and that this is stress and this is my own anxiety and all I need is a little success, a little company and little hug and all will be well.
If only it were tomorrow.