Being a single mom is fucking hard.
I am not prepared for this. I am not grown up enough to do this on my own. I need a partner. Or so I think.
I have to change my mind about it; change your life by changing your mind. Or some other Buddhist shit like that.
So here I am- changing my mind.
It is not hard that we are alone 80% of the time, it is AWESOME that we get to spend so much quality time together. I can co-sleep if I want to! I can be an empathetic parent without his hard judgmental gaze glaring down upon me like lasers boring into my soul, making me feel insecure and wishy-washy.
And then, while I am riding my new wave of parenting positivity, she takes a nap at school and doesn’t go to bed until 10:30 pm. I lost my shit. She cried. I cried. It was intense. From 3:30 pm, when I picked her up from school until 10:30 pm she needed me, to be near her, at all times. Talking to me, constantly. The incessant babble of a four-year-old is mind numbing. I know it has to do with the separation, I know, so I can’t be too hard on her. But this shit just breaks my heart and my resolve.
I feel like a fucking failure as a parent because I desperately wanted a break.
I needed a break, and I hate myself for that.
I don’t have balance yet. It is still too new. I am reeling from the transition of living as a family to living alone, just the two of us. I can’t even imagine how she feels about it. I know the depth of my grief alone.
It is almost midnight, and I think I can finally go to sleep now.
Soon it will be the morning.
Then we do it all over again.
I can’t write for shit right now. I am so fucking tired.
I am going to bed. She is finally asleep. Let’s sleep.
Love is all there is.