I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. I’m failing miserably at being a mother, I’m for ever irritable and I can’t stay on top of the laundry and the mess anymore. If anyone was to ask any of my children now, they would refer to me as a miserable moody old mother. They would say I always seem tired and I’m always shouting. I’m letting down my most precious beings. I can hear myself and see myself but I still can’t stop. I’m in a spiral of failing miserably and constantly.
I love my children more than anything and I am so proud of them, but my mere presence is unwarranted here. I’m causing too much upset, and I’m not doing everything like I should be. I’m crying as I write this, because I hate what I have become. And I hate that my children have to see me like this. I hate that S isn’t more present, at least they would have the reassurance of one stable person.
My body screams against my movements, I can’t be bothered to shower, brush my teeth, look after my hair. I avoid going anywhere, dropping off the children is hard enough. I don’t want interactions with anybody else. My case manager asked to come over this morning, but I said no. What’s the point? Nobody can help me, I talk in circles, no one can fix me. I take my medication, I don’t drink, I don’t self medicate, I’m following the rules and yet I still feel like a walking disaster. My children have nothing to be proud of, nothing to aspire to. I’m just a miserable fat lump, and I hate myself for it. What am I teaching my children? That it’s okay to hide in bed when life is hard? That it’s okay to not care for yourself? They are only getting bad examples from me. They deserve so much better.
I need S to hurry up and come home and be a father to the children. So that I can go and they don’t have to put up with me anymore. I love my children more than anything, and I hate how I am letting them down. I have just wanted them to be proud of me, but nothing I do would make them proud of me. I love my children more than anything, and I hate how I am letting them down. I have just wanted them to be proud of me, but nothing I do will make them proud or to make them want to be around me.
I feel like a constant burden, I know S will be fed up because he’s so caught up in his new career and I’m not fulfilling my duties as main carer. I am becoming a greater inconvenience.
I know his mother will have to come, and I hate that so much because it means I failed and it will feed him and his family with so much ammunition that I can’t look after my own children.
I just don’t want to live. Living is too painful, life is too hard, hurting people I care about is too much of a cross to bear.