Ragged

I am utterly exhausted.  My bones are tired, my mind is spinning, and I can barely keep my eyes open.  My boss told me to consider going home to get a head start on the evening and catch up on sleep.  As someone who prides herself on Keeping It Together At All Times, that was a major blow to my front.

I'm not quite sure what I'm doing wrong, but somehow, every day feels like a marathon of to-do lists.  26.2 never-ending miles of making lunches, prepping bottles, cooking, cleaning, working, grocery shopping, running errands.  I'm not really doing much else.  S and I do a pretty good job of keeping routines; we cook large quantities of food once a week, we divide labor in the household equally, and at this point, we even have Peanut on a routine.  She goes to bed at 8pm every night (after play, dinner, bath and bedtime story) and actually falls asleep for the night.

But it's not working.

Somehow, even as someone with so much privilege - access to lots of support and resources while doing this parenting/living life thing - I feel like I'm failing.  I'm failing at doing the best I can.

I can't keep up with my own life.  There is always more to do, more to manage.  I try to let things go (mostly, cleaning the apartment) to create space for a little summer fun.  And then things pile up and I feel more overwhelmed than before the fun.

The small things keep getting in the way of the big things.  When I think about how "busy" I am, I realize I'm filling my time with things that are about maintaining my life, not embracing it or living it fully.  I worry that I've relegated caring for Peanut into just another set of tasks on my list.  Picked her clothes out?  Check.  Changed her diaper?  Check.  Spent thirty minutes connecting with her and making her laugh?  Check.

Something needs to change.

I feel like crying when I see how truly connected Peanut is to her daycare providers, and when they tell me things I wish I knew about her daily development.  I resent every minute of hustling and hauling stuff (groceries, laundry) around this challenging city.  The cats feel like a nuisance.  I have very little space or time to engage in real self-care - exercise, breathing, enjoying nature, cooking for fun, being creative, writing.  I'm barely connecting with S at this point.  We move through our days like the sun and the moon; sharing the same sky, but so very far apart from one another.

I miss Peanut.  I miss S.  I miss myself.  I have run myself ragged.  And I don't know how to stop.