Its me, not you

Transitions, oh transitions are so tough!  This move has been harder on me than I expected.  I am not sure if my hopes were too high or if being settled is allowing the postpartum to take hold, I'm not quite sure why but I am feeling so completely disconnected and alone right now. 

I know that last year was a blessing.  Anthony's schedule was relatively light (compared to most other seasons) which allowed him to help so much at home.  I was so sick and miserable for most of my pregnancy and would not have survived without him.  I have been spoiled since Lucy was born the week after his regular season ended.  And now tryouts have begun for Anthony and homework and activities and real dinner and real bedtime need happen for the kids.  There is only one of me and a nursing 6 month old, an overly tired 3 year old, a trying 7 year old and a very emotional 10.5 year old.  Yesterday I cried over everything, spit up on the floor, a potty training accident, a picture that was bumped and knocked off, laundry and a temper tantrum, just to name a few. 

I honestly don't know how I am going to survive.  I don't know how I will get everyone where they need to be. I don't know how homework or music practice will get done.  I don't know how I will do Family Home Evening or scripture study and prayer.  I don't know how I will make dinner or do the dishes.  I don't know how I will play with and read to and enjoy these precious little girls while they are still little.  I don't know how I am going to be kind and tender with my girls.  I don't know how I am going to fulfill my church callings.  I don't know how I am going to serve others.  I don't know how I am going to be a friend, sister, daughter or wife.  I don't know how I am going to clean my house or my car.  I don't know how I am going to plant a garden.  I don't know how I am going to exercise.  I don't know how I am going to fill my heart and soul and do something that makes me feel alive.  I don't know how I am going to breathe.

These are some of my fears.  The fears that paralyze me.  And the feeling of isolation compounds them.  I feel that I am the only one.  The only one who can't get my act together.  The only one who can't wait to put her kids to bed so she can binge on junk food.  The only one who feels that she is drowning in the sea of motherhood.  The only one who wonders if she is in over her head.  The rational part of my brain tells me no - other people feel this way too.  But I don't know them - or at least they put on the show.  You know the one I'm talking about, the "Oh everything's great! We are all so wonderful!" show.  We all do it.  I don't know why. I am so broken.  In need of someone to share my complete brokenness with.  But I don't know who.  Everyone is so busy.  Too busy for phone calls so we just text and miss all of the emotion. To busy for impromptu visits.  Too busy to connect.  Too busy to feel.  I believe that when we put connection and feeling first we are better equipped to deal.  Better able to face the fears and press forward.

But I'm different, so different.  And this is the hardest thing of all for me to accept.  I am so extremely different and I just don't get most things.  I don't recognize boundaries and overstep more often than not.  I am too opinionated.  I worry too much about people.  And I love too deeply.  I am constantly thinking about and worrying about the people in my life.  I am hoping and praying that they are okay and that their needs (emotional and physical) are met.  I try too hard.  I think too much.  I assume.  I assume others hurt as deeply as I do or that they are as lonely as I am.  I want so badly to be friends with everyone I meet.

So yes. its me, not you.  I know I am difficult and confusing.  I know its hard to be my friend and I'm sorry.  So one of these days I hope to figure it all out.  To figure out how to manage my life, my fears, my heart.  One of these days I hope to figure out how to be the woman I need to be.