broke, bucket, call me a witch and drop a house on me I’m done, crash landing, crashdlanding, depressed, depression, friendships, gravity, I need a new roof, money, Newton, non-fiction, parenthood, relationships
I’m your host, Lobotomeee.
I recently took an 8 day vacation from work. When I came back from it I was feeling much better emotionally. However, things are starting to building up like a digestive tract that hasn’t gotten enough fiber.
The Ship Maybe Be Sinking
First off, I’ve known for a while that I’m not the kind of friend to some that means I’m on the list of “hey she should know about this”. In fact I’m not on that list of many people in my life. I tend to learn things about people secondhand.
I’ve know this information for a long time, and I’ve decided to not force the issue so as not to bother or annoy anyone, I have also decided I’m not going to dip my toes into a wading pool I’m not invited too. These decisions are made for my mental health so I do not linger where my presence is not requested.
This was all a conscious decision and of my own freewill. But I’d be gosh darned if it doesn’t still hurt a little.
I’m 100% sure that I’m likely just as “at fault” in relationship maintenance as others. The same way that it takes two to tango, it takes two people willing an able to make a bond strong.
I have lost a number of friends in my day, and I’ve had all manner of reactions to it. But no matter how it happens, whether they’ve just disappeared or we’ve drifted apart, I still mourn almost as if there were a death. But the death of what one thought was mutual still stings.
Raising The Kid
After ten months of struggle, and thinking I’d finally reached a plateau, we’re back where we started, basically.
In December of 2021 the hubs and I made the decision that it was time the Kid started sleeping in her own bed. For basically all of her life, she has slept in the bed with me. Now I don’t want to discredit my husband and baby daddy, there were a few nights he took over. But his batting percentage is significantly lower than mine.
The decision was mostly prompted by repeated issues at school resulting in discipline being required. And when you have to punish a kid, allowing said kid to sleep in bed with her mom every night seems a little counterproductive. We made it clear to her that she wasn’t being pushed out because I didn’t want her, she was being guided gently to her own space because it was time to grow up.
Also she’s getting big and a full size bed doesn’t have enough space for the both of us.
She was doing really well. I was doing really well with taking her back to her room at night when she’d wake up. But vacation changed the tune. Because I didn’t have to work every day, I wasn’t making her stay in her room.
So when vacation was over, I couldn’t bring myself to crawl out of bed in the middle of the night and make her go to her room, lay with her until she fell asleep and trudge back to my room. It’s just easier and I get more sleep than all that. Except the rare and glorious occasions when she SLEPT IN HER BED ALL NIGHT.
She hasn’t done that more than a handful of times since my vacation. Waking up this morning after sharing my bed with her for about four hours last night, my hips and joints and head were hurting. I spent most of that time laying in one uncomfortable position to accommodate her and her need to be physically touching (or often on top of) me. Wanting her to sleep in her own bed all night so I could sleep alone makes me feel like a bad mom.
But my lack of willpower to refuse her when she comes stumbling into my room in the middle of the night when I’m drowsy in my own bed makes me feel like a bad mom too. I can’t win for losing.
The Roof The Roof is leaking and it’s becoming a problem.
I’m not even entirely sure at this point how long there has been a leak in the ceiling over my bed. We have lived in this house for thirteen years. There are at least two leaks in the roof over the living room and one over my bed.
Well, it turns out there is one long leak.
Water, while it has no mind of its own, will follow the path of least resistance. That trait, combined with the force of gravity telling it what to do, leads it to create a path of destruction. While your first thought of water might be of something gentle and flowing, water, given enough of it, can begat floods.
While I’ve not had my life flipped over by a flood, I do have the slow and gentle destruction of my sanity by a small leak in the form of a drip, just over my bed. Where my head lays.
I can’t remember when I first started noticing it, but it’s been a problem for a while now.
You see, my whole house, floor to ceiling is wood of some form. The walls and ceiling are the same material, wood slats. And in this wood, like can be found in most wood, are knots. And my leak seeps slowly through a knot.
Now, I don’t know why I assumed that it was just dripping straight down onto that knot. And not the actual truth. That the water leaking through the roof has to build up and likely form a puddle for it to leak through.
Because just the other morning, after staying up all night making my kid a costume for Halloween I noticed a wet spot at the foot of my bed. On the bed. At first I thought, oh, I might have laid a wipe there, since I was using them to clean brushes.
After The husband and Kid left for school, I looked into it. Nay, it was not a wipe. In fact it was another drip. The water from the leak in the roof, wherever it is, had built up, and was now slipping through the joints in the slats of wood. It found the quickest and easiest way through and was dripping at the foot of my bed.
I followed the seam of the wood all the way down and it’s right in line with the leak at the head of my bed.
Now, I had previously manufactured a temporary solution to having a drip of water on my face every night. It’s what I like to call a hillbilly MacGyver situation. Dollar tree edition. But while temporary meant “until we’re able to fix it”, it decided it was done with my nonsense early this morning.
Now, not only is my pride hurt and I have a red mark and a lump on my forehead, but I had myself a good old fashioned mental breakdown. I cried in bed not just because it hurt, not just because I got slapped awake with a bucket to my noggin, but because eventually this leak is gonna get worse and I’m going to be covered by what’s used to be the upper part of my house.
Combine all of the above with a constant feeling of failure, feelings of inadequacy, of uselessness. If being broke and depressed, and I am weaving a dangerous web with what the universe keeps throwing at me.
There are an alarming amount of people that would taking having a bucket dropped on your head as a sign. Gravity, after all, was discovered when Newton got sacked on the head by an apple.
But Newton didn’t put the apple on the tree waiting for it to fall. I stuck a bucket to my ceiling in hopes of postponing the inevitable burning down my house in a fit of rage after one too many drops of water interrupted my sleep. So this is all just a sign that I’m a complete idiot.