Man, oh man.
I haven’t felt this overwhelmed-antsy-frazzled-terrified-angry in a long time. As in three years ago, when my marriage was falling to pieces, or even five years ago, when I was in the dark depths of baby blues so deep that I didn’t know if I would ever come back to the surface.
In a word: ADHD. I feel like I jinxed myself with my previous post, as it has become clear (after a conference with his preschool’s director, his teacher, and then a psychologist evaluation) that the little guy has it.
It’s not the ADHD per se that has me feeling short of breath, but the “It’s all on me; I’m the parent — the ONLY parent — to guide him through this” thoughts that just WON’T SHUT UP.
Hello, anxiety-laced-with-situational-depression! Would you like a cup of coffee? It’s just been SO LONG since you last visited!
It’s been hard to focus on anything. Novel-writing’s still on hold. I’m dreading the impending round of essay grading. I have a formal performance review coming up that I have to prepare for, and I still have to put together that sabbatical proposal if I don’t want to miss the deadline.
They are those squirrels in my head, and they are chattering so frantically that it sounds like screaming.
All I want to do is drop everything, just drop out of the world, pick up my kid, and just hug hug hug hug him. Last week was a week of grieving over the kid whom I thought I had while also celebrating the kid that I actually have.
I thought I had all of this single motherhood thing all figured out, but then — surprise! — life gives me a lesson that I don’t know shit.
It’s a lesson in humility. A hard lesson. A “I can’t do this” sob-fest and then “Suck it up and just do it because you CAN” lesson.
Single motherhood is hard.
I can do this.