Feeling stalled

My uplifting return to my former pre-child existence was followed almost immediately by the school holidays and other responsibilities. This is thus the third week where I have experienced "days off", where I do what I like at my own pace. I'm always taken by surprise by the counter-intuitive effects of such relief; every time something in the world of child-rearing improves, every time I feel a release from some kind of relentless pressure, I expect myself to return to the coal face refreshed and energised. What actually happens is that I balk at going back at all, and find the descent harder than ever. And, being good at beating myself up, I feel guilty about it.

In theory, every week there should be one shortish and one longish day to myself. But P is missing his 4th day of school today in 4 weeks, and this particular day is -- yes, my long day off. So perhaps parenting has in some ways been a little harder than usual, and I shouldn't beat myself up too much, not to mention the ongoing need for Q to be absent for substantial periods of time caring for his elderly father. I have noticed, though, that I have much more energy and focus when there is another adult around. P couldn't go to gym the last 2 weeks, but instead of cancelling the babysitter for S, I had her come to help anyway. I found myself at the park with S on his bike while P played on the laptop in his bed. Knowing that someone was folding the washing & so forth, and that I didn't have to negotiate with 2 contrary sets of desires (in this case 1 child who finds movement in general draining, & one who is strong & craves more of it), I noticed just how much easier it was to get involved in the outing. On that note, S also continues to mature, and we are having more satisfying encounters in general. It all makes me wonder if I tend to shut down in sometimes in anticipation of the physical, mental and emotional exhaustion of juggling practical responsibilities with the communication and emotional regulation difficulties that both boys have.

On that note, memo to self; I might go off-topic sometime revisit life with chronic pain. There is also P's upcoming 7th birthday, a milestone age and a time to reflect on how we can support him as the social world of his peers picks up speed. There is much on my mind, but there still seems so little time to unravel it all!

Bodily betrayals

I have mentioned my chronic pain problems, due to numerous mishaps in my teens; they are debilitating not only physically, but are also crushing to one's self-esteem. Because I had headaches more days than not from when I was 16 into my early 20s, and because although those headaches abated somewhat with physiotherapy from that time on, BUT also because some of those headaches came with ear pain, which is a classic symptom of a TMJ injury (which I had), I attributed all headaches to the same cause. So I felt very slow off the mark indeed when, at around 31 years of age, it dawned on me that some of these headaches came at the same time every month. From that realisation, I was also able to identify the differences between the headaches I got from my injuries, and those from my hormones.

Which multiplied my sources of inadequacy; if I wasn't failing to manage a normal day's activities because of muscle spasms, then I was failing to manage a normal day's activities due to my body's own natural rhythms. Which is how I am today, having rung Q in a panic yesterday lunchtime as I felt like I'd just been hit across the head with a block of wood, having been taken by surprise by a very short cycle (the next joy on the horizon -- menopausal, perhaps? With such young kids? What a poster girl I am, in my bleaker moments, for all that is wrong with the older mother). Luckily he was able to come home fairly quickly and take S out while I slept for 2 hours. Despite the sleep, I went to bed at 8 that night, but my night was interrupted repeatedly by the throbbing pain in my head; I'd felt too nauseous to take painkillers before bed. I took some this morning and managed a couple of hours reasonably well, but late morning, I found myself looking in panic around the chaos of my house and my youngest son having a snack in front of the TV, wondering how I am going to manage to do the most basic of tasks, things which everyone around me seems to be on top of ...?

And yet, here I am able to put my thoughts into words & broadcast them willy nilly. Actually, this is a therapeutic experiment. I wondered if I could at least release the emotions, maybe I would regain some functionality. And it's a bit like the servant who whispered to the stream that the king had donkey's ears -- what was that story? -- this, I suppose, is my stream, ironically safer than hers, because I forget who overheard her whisper, but for better or worse, I'm pretty sure that my messages remain uncommunicated!

Phew! Now I'd better try to find something for me & the little guy to do together.