Suffocation, No Breathing

I’m tired, so tired.

I’m tired of worrying. I’m tired of being scared. I’m tired of overthinking and making decisions. I’m tired of parenting. I’m tired of feeling suffocated, being pawed at, hung all over, clutched and clung to. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of being.

Does anyone know the song “Last Resort” by Papa Roach? I didn’t either until my husband started singing it one day out of the blue. He sang it so much it became a “thing” with my kids, and now they sing it:

Cut my life into pieces
This is my last resort
Suffocation
No breathing

I don’t know about any of you but that’s our life right now.

My husband and I spend our days fending off first one child, then the other. Someone’s always crying or whining or complaining. Someone’s always hurting or being hurt. Someone always needs something: a snack, a glass of water, a piece of gum, a band-aid, a butt wiped, a toy to be fixed or pulled down from a high shelf. Someone’s always fighting, stewing, clinging, suffocating. There’s no downtime, no breathing room, no silence, no break. It is 24 relentless hours of mental, physical, and emotional fatigue. I say 24 because even bedtime offers no relief these days: My kids may go to bed, but that doesn’t mean my mind leaves me alone. Quite the opposite, in fact. During the day it’s easy to lose myself in chores or writing or working or exercising. But at night? Oh no, at night my mind’s a wide-open field full of what ifs, should haves, and why the hell did I do thats.

But the worst part is the neediness. I understand and appreciate that boredom is good for children, but enduring boredom due to a worldwide pandemic is a whole new ballgame. My kids pace around this house, flitting from one brief activity to the next, and suction-cupping themselves to my person in between bouts of whining, crying, complaining, demanding, needing. Some days I can bear it but others it takes literally all my strength not to snap and run away. I don’t know if it’s in my mind or what, but many times it feels as if my kids can barely function without being physically near (or on top of) me or my husband—unless they’re watching TV, of course. But how long can they sit and do that every day before it fries their brains? It is so suffocating! They don’t even want to play on the brand-new “playground” my husband just built for them in the backyard! They come in and out of the house like a cuckoo clock stuck upon the hour.

“It’s too hot.”
“There are too many bugs.”
“I’m bored.”
“I don’t feel like being outside.”
“I want to watch TV.”
“It’s too hot.”
“I need a drink.”
“I want something to eat.”
“I’m bored.”
“It’s too hot.”

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

There are so many times I feel like I can’t breathe. Like I can’t bear another day of this loneliness and monotony and child-rearing under quarantine. I’m consistently denied the luxury of indulging in my own personal demons–you know, as a means of figuring out how to cope. Instead, I’m buried under the constant barrage of children who don’t understand what’s happening and are trying to figure out their place in this new world order. And rightly so. But that doesn’t make it any easier to bear.

Do I sound like a horrible momma? Maybe, but at least I’m honest about it. The strain we parents are under is … beyond words. And it ain’t going away any time soon. Which means we are hard-pressed to adjust to this new normal. A new normal where self-care, personal space, and boundaries for parents must take a back seat. Scratch that, they’re not taking a back seat, they simply no longer exist. And that is a tough pill to swallow, especially when it’s layered with the guilt, compassion, and understanding we have for what our children are most definitely thinking and feeling: sadness, confusion, fear, boredom, pity, apathy. Because we’re thinking and feeling it, too, and we (for the most part) do recognize what we’re all up against. And in just over a month we’re going to add a chaotic, disruptive, fragile school schedule to the mix. Awesome sauce.

*Sigh.*

I usually like to end my moan-and-groan posts with a silver lining, but I’m at a loss here. What’s the antidote for suffocation? Breathing. And praying. All we can do is breathe, breathe, breathe, pray, pray, pray. And take one day at a time. The rest is in God’s hands.

I hope he’s listening.