Today I am beside myself, heavy with frustration and this incredibly strong desire for solitude.
As I mentioned previously I’m quitting smoking. Great. Eight days in and I don’t even want to smoke, but the emotional turmoil that comes with the initial two week withdrawal period is making me an absolute basket case. It’s been a tough few days, but today is the cherry. Cherry bomb, that is.
Hannah, bless her little heart, has a runny nose and didn’t sleep well due to waking up multiple times from congestion and back drip. For some reason I didn’t sleep well either and was up around 2 am putting her back to bed. But tiredness aside (I’ve been tired before and been fine), it’s like my coping mechanism is on hiatus, or just being overridden by stupid brain chemistry that I neither understand nor care for and yet must wait out. I knew this was going to happen and one of the things that kept smoking full time at bay.
Ironically, I used the stresses of motherhood as a lame excuse to start again; regardless of the fact that I knew that quitting would be more challenging because dealing with a toddler while cranky as all get out would give me a run for money.
At the moment I have strong feelings of just wanting to be left alone. Ever want to just crawl under a rock and disappear? That’s the kind of day I’m having, and when I don’t have Hannah in my face, my cat is making her presence well known. I’m practicing deep breathing and drinking tea like a fiend while I work through feeling like I can never just be left alone.
Putting this down on digital paper, so to speak, makes me feel really selfish, or at the very least sound selfish. I’m a mom. I don’t get time to myself, right? The thing is “having time for oneself” when being a mother is so necessary. That’s it. I see so much crap online that plays up both how awful and yet rewarding parenting is, and how straight up miraculous being a parent is. I get it. It’s pretty awesome when all parties involved are happy to be sure. And I have been warned that there will be days when all you want to do is wave that little white flag high and wipe the tear induced snot from your red, splotchy, defeated face. I feel so sorry for those moms out there who don’t have the privilege of help from family so that they might regain some form of sanity.
At this point I’m counting down the hours to bedtime. It’s all I can do. I’ve given her free reign over the TV. I’ll make sure she’s not hungry or thirsty, and that her bum is clean, but today I feel that it is so important that I shamelessly commiserate, recognize it for what it is, know that tomorrow is a new day, that more sleep is to be had, and that I’m more than halfway through the two week withdrawal period.