First things first.
I know how blessed I am.
I discussed this very topic over at Hopeful Parents the other day. While I know it, and remind myself of it often, sometimes I just get pissy.
All moms need a break, a respite, a chance to get the hell away and recoup. Some get that break, most don’t. And what we see on the outside isn’t always what is going on on the inside. A mom could be handling things just fine, but on the inside her brain is melting and desperately needs some time to herself, where she has no responsibility other than choosing what to put in her coffee. Or what kind of wine to enjoy. Or if she wants fresh-cracked pepper on her heirloom lettuce salad.
This was to be my weekend. My chance to get the hell outta Dodge, to make no decisions, to sit and read and write and think and have no responsibilities whatsoever. I figured I needed about a day and a half to get caught up on the computer work that has dogged me for weeks and another day to just be a slug. I’d return home refreshed and ahead, in preparation for my husband traveling for the better part of the next several weeks.
You know what they say about the best laid plans, right?
Tom has a titchy back. I have now dubbed her “Bernice,” simply because I like assigning names to things, and because he’s not here right now to weigh in. Bernice is a jealous bitch. Bernice does not like to be ignored. Bernice is a Mean Girl. Bernice showed up unannounced and unwelcome to our weekend away at a five star resort. Tom is technically working, but I had planned to retire to the deliciously opulent room and disappear from the world for awhile. Bernice showed up and I just couldn’t. Tom had to take a muscle relaxant so he could function, and I couldn’t leave him alone. I needed to make sure he was ok, that he was sitting as much as he could, that he wouldn’t keel over. No matter what, my family comes first. He’s ok today (so far), but I lost all of Friday.
I know how blessed I am to even be here, despite Bernice’s arrival. I know this. I know that the world is in terrible shape in so many ways, and that this is incredibly minor in the grand scheme of things. I feel guilty even feeling this way.
I really needed this weekend. Not just wanted, but needed. Tom is traveling much of the next few weeks. My stress level in the last few weeks has gotten worrisome (when my left eye starts twitching and/or I get throbbing pressure behind it, I know I’m deep into the red zone). I’m scared and worried about the future. I feel guilty that I’m not better supporting my family. I get to the end of each day and wonder where the hell the time went, and if my whole life is going to be like that, eventually looking back at my life and wondering where it went. I just needed a few days to myself, to hit the restart button and maybe slow down that out-of-control treadmill of life for a bit. February, my least favorite month of the year, starts Monday. Past Februarys haven’t been kind to me. I was hoping to have built up a bit of reserves before it got here.
Again, I am insanely blessed in my life.
But if Bernice, that bitch, shows her damned face again anytime soon, I’m going to rip it off.