I really wanted all the freshness that I thought 2020 had to offer. I wanted the clean slate, a chance to start over, the chance to better myself and all within my home.
But then 2020 got here an everything went to shit. Or it stayed the same shitty way.... I don’t even know anymore.
I feel so lost. So alone. Like such a failure.
and the thing is, I DO find little pockets of happiness here and there. I know they exist. But they sometimes feel so rare that I drown in the spaces in between.
Amelia isn’t sleeping again. She wants to be glued to me. Which is fine. I know a day will come where it’ll be the last time and I want those moments as often as can, but tomorrow I’m working 530am to 8:30pm. A double. I HAVE to sleep tonight. (And here I am)
I’ve gotten 6 hours of sleep in the last two days and that was broken sleep. So you’d think Jesse would step in. You know....the spot where I normally am so he can sleep for his 12 hour shifts. Nope. He loses his patience after trying for .2 seconds…and after 12+ hours of sleep.
I don’t like talking badly about him. He’s a good man. But good men can still drive you fucking crazy.
I don’t want it to be like this. I hate these moments when I wish the world would swallow me whole and how my mind wanders to the dark side and tells me that family would be better off if the world did what I wanted it to. How my mind plays out fights that haven’t even happened, except in my mind.
I don’t want to fight with my husband. I don’t want to speak badly of him. I just want him to want to help me. TWO DAYS a week. Without me practically losing my mind, sobbing while my toddler screams, flailing red faced in my arms before he gets up off the couch and crankily takes her from me.
I want him to want me. I want him to need me. I want him to hold me. I know he loves me. But that’s not the same as feeling loved.
I’m kind of a mess.
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