Nothing but Questions
She opens her eyes, stumbles to the coffee machine and
puzzles out how to put the filter together.
Then it starts - the screaming, the name-calling, and the
physical and verbal assault.
“You’re so STUPID! Shut up. Where are my f*ing pants?!? It’s
all YOUR fault for not folding the laundry! You are the WORST I HATE you”
If this were an interaction between two adults, it would be
called domestic violence. Others would encourage her to leave, put her safety
and well-being first. But all of that changes when you realise that it’s
actually children interacting with their mother. Every morning, every afternoon, every
evening. Everything is all her fault, all of the time, and by the end of the
week, she believes it. She can’t escape, can’t abandon them. She has to cop it,
and move on. She’s supposed to model patience, love, kindness – even when she
is screaming inside, and wants to flail out and defend herself from the
assault. She’s not allowed, because they are her children.
They shouldn’t call her names, it is said. Yet, they do.
They shouldn’t scream at her. Yet, they do.
They certainly shouldn’t hit, kick, or punch her – yet they
do.
What is a mother to do?
What am I to do?
What am I supposed to do when my son, aged 6, chooses to run
off to the park across the road without telling anyone? He doesn’t understand
the seriousness of his actions, doesn’t care that he’s taking me away from his
sisters or that dinner will be late now because I’ve had to find him and bring
him home, where he THROWS A BOOK at his sister for choosing the wrong YouTube
video?
What am I supposed to do when my 9 year old daughter empties
a bag of rubbish on the kitchen floor because someone was scraping their bowl,
then stole a sticky ninja?
What do I do when my daughter is on the verge of a panic
attack nearly every morning when things get hairy?
What do I do when my daughter (another one) is physically
lashing out at her siblings and screaming with all the volume she can muster at
every single infraction, big or small?
What am I supposed to do when every single minor infraction
feels like a very big deal because I live in perpetual fight or flight? A wet
towel on the floor isn’t huge. But a wet towel on the floor for the 57th
time (an approximation) is a slap in the face.
What am I supposed to do when well-intentioned solutions neither a) work, nor b) are remotely encouraging? FYI, I already think I'm failing at life most of the time, so pointing out what I'm NOT doing really doesn't help.
How on earth do I address all of this simultaneously? How do
I fix all this, and make time for me because everyone knows self-care is
important, and we can’t pour from an empty cup, and I know that. But when I am one adult, caring for a household and four very different children with four very
different sets of needs, four very different skill sets, there is NO TIME.
What I need is for someone else to come and clean my house,
fold the laundry, cook the meals, wash the dishes, and let me sleep. I need someone to wake up and take my children back to bed so I can sleep without people touching me and I can just sleep. But that
feels so wrong, because it’s not like my children have special needs, and isn’t
this just life? Do I even have the right to be tired? On the weekends, when my
husband is here, all I really want is to be left alone for a few hours – but he
needs me too. There is no time when I am not needed, and while that should
perhaps make me see how important I am, really it just drains me. Even now, when
the house is quiet, my brain is spinning like mad trying to find more time,
more energy – not for me, but for everyone else. I’m consumed by thoughts of
trying to squeeze blood from a stone and find something else to give.
At the end of the day, I am just a mum, loving as much as she can (and a bit more), as best as she knows how, leaning on Jesus and drowning just a little. But not totally, so that's something.
Off for a nap until someone shorter than me comes in to wake me up.
XO, Sarah
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