I can remember the day like it was only just yesterday.
I was sitting on my white couch, dirtied with muddy paw prints, baby spit-up and something neon pink, which I couldn’t quite decipher. My head was clouded from lack of sleep and I hadn’t showered in what seemed like days. My oldest daughter wanted to build puzzles and her frustration was growing with each passing moment because her new baby sister, a.k.a. the screaming thing, wouldn’t give her two minutes of alone time with me. The dogs were barking, but not just the normal kind of bark.
It was the ear-piercing, cringe-causing kind that makes a person want to shout or rip her unwashed hair out.
There were piles of dirty dishes spilling over the sink and onto the un-wiped counters and I was drowning in loads laundry, yet to be done. There were boxes that needed to be packed. A house that needed to be listed and a five-year-old’s birthday to be planned. There was so much to do, but not enough time and I couldn’t stand looking at those walls for one more second.
I had vomit on my shoulder, yoga pants that were stretched out in the knees from wearing them so long and two mismatched socks. I didn’t care. I pulled my ratty, unbrushed hair back, hoping that would hide some of the stink because I needed to get out of there. Without using my better judgement, or rather any judgement, I packed up the kids and headed to where else, but my favorite store with a big red bulls-eye!
Of course while we were shopping, my new baby needed an immediate diaper change right while my oldest was looking at the dollar toys and of course my oldest had a meltdown because that’s what little kids do. Especially little kids who’ve just had their small worlds turned upside down by a new sibling.
So then, of course, I had two crying children in the toy aisle.
I remember taking a deep breath, trying not to lose my shit right there next to the little happy white and red dog, smiling at me because he sees this crap on an everyday kind of basis. I didn’t want to give him and his cute puppy dog face that kind of satisfaction. He wouldn’t see me break.
So, after talking myself down from the ledge and regaining what little composure my fuzzy, sleep-deprived brain could manage, I packed my kids back into the car and went home.
The house was still dirty, the dogs were still barking incessantly and the kids were still upset. I had more than I could take. Something in my head literally snapped and all I could manage were tears.
I thought to myself, this must be what a nervous breakdown feels like. I am definitely breaking down right now. I called my husband because I needed him; I was weak and I needed his strength. But when he answered, the words all sounded wrong. I was a blubbering fool and the words, my words, were gone.
I was broken.
That was just one year ago. It took me one long year and the support of family, friends, coffee and wine (definitely wine) to get out of that place and into this one, where I am better, for the most part.
I am a work in progress, but then again most of us are.