I'm sitting here shaking and crying because I've held it in for too long.
I'm in my new house, which I moved into 9 days ago, and I freakin love it.. I have been pretty happy since we moved in, and would have blogged about the extreme euphoria but we had no Internet until a couple days ago.
In that time, my uncle died, and my family celebrated what would have been my dad's 70th birthday, had he lived. There is so much stress surrounding my uncle's death, which isn't surprising, but for some reason I'm not expected to feel anything. I am expected to do my job and other people's jobs, and not screw up; I'm expected to take care of the kids on my own 80% of the time and not be tired or cranky; I'm expected to unpack everything in this house even when no one else is unpacking; and above all else, I am expected to NOT be tired. That is not allowed. I try to lay down and have a nap after picking up the kids, but lately I haven't been because we have been so busy. Out of the five weekdays last week, I had four kids come for playdates, two adults over for drinks, stayed home for our cable hookup, unpacked, and napped just one of the days. Apparently this was too much, I guess I should have filled that day too.
I am exhausted from all the stress, missing my father, putting up appearances for people, and dealing with my uncle's death and the fallout from it. I took the kids to a halloween party while my mom stayed home and rested, I have stayed home with my brother and taken care of him so she could take care of my uncle's responsibilities. I am worn down, but all I hear is how tired she is, how she does everything, and I do nothing.
Everything has built up, and it is erupting like emotional lava.
When I should be happy and celebratory, I am tired and feeling worthless.
Having dinner in honor of my father was nice, I liked spending time with his sister and niece. But it brought up past hurt. We were talking about the lack of funeral or service for my uncle, and how we really should rethink that so we could have closure, and it brought up the memory of my father's memorial, to which I was not invited. I imagine the reason no one told me was because it was 4,000 kilometers away, but my god, I should have been told about it. I explained that because I missed it, I still have no closure after twelve years, but that got no response. I just don't matter to anyone.. it was my dad, but I didn't need to be there. I find it so unfair, and there is nothing I can do about it.
I talked to someone tonight who feels the same way I do, and knows exactly what I'm going through, and it's so wonderful to have her. She summed up her feelings perfectly, and it fits me too: "I hate myself, but I love my kids more." So true. If I didn't have my daughter, I would kill myself, or at least try. But I love her too much, and would never do that to her, or take away my one joy, seeing her grow. So I am stuck here to deal with life, and sometimes, it is too much.
