Running on Empty

On days like today, I have no idea how I keep going. I was up at 4am,  because my little one had an accident and wet the bed. Fell back asleep for an hour, woke up, made coffee, made lunch, got the little one up, fed, dressed, then myself, ran out the door (late again), dropped him off at daycare, sped to work, 9 hours working in subarctic temperatures (something is broke in the heating system,) ran to the grocery store for TP and cat food on my lunch break in the rain, took 10 minutes to check out because “self” checkout is more like wait while attendants bounce around to all the machines until they finally help you (by this point I imagine flames blazing in my eyes), back to work through the hail, late, back to the arctic for four more hours… Then I will pick up my little guy, go to the gym (because it is the one “selfish” thing I get to do for myself), find a quick dinner, go to a meeting, go home, put little one to bed, which is a marathon effort of bath time, brushing teeth, getting him to go potty, reading a story, and making sure he has everything he needs to go to sleep. Then I will go wash the dishes, take a quick & quiet shower, and collapse in to bed. Tomorrow, repeat.

Just writing that out makes me feel even more exhausted. I’m sitting here, drinking expired Kombucha, because it was $1.50 off (quality and freshness guaranteed!) I’m worn the hell out and broke. I don’t want to vent/complain to my partner. He is going through some heavy stuff and I’m being as supportive as possible. Still, I feel like I’m going to snap at any moment and just lose my shit. I have no idea what the hell keeps me going.

Perhaps it is unbridled rage at my soon to be ex-husband, who doesn’t have a single responsibility in the world besides going to work. The abusive man-child who still gets kicks making my life a living hell has dragged out this divorce for a year now. The judge has ordered a trial since it is taking so long. He spends part of one day every other week or so with his son, and then pretends like I’m keeping him away from our son. Ask any time Mother F^cker!! I always say yes. Stop playing the victim and take some responsibility for your own life…

Anyway… I’m done venting. I can’t spend anymore energy dwelling in my misery and anger. Time for a chill pill;

…zombie shuffle until bed.

P.S. I do realize that there billions of people in the world living far harder lives than I am. This is just my reaction to my circumstances given the society I was raised in and still struggle to reside.

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