"Single Mum"

I spent a portion of my afternoon today searching online for a blog or something that could comfort me.  I wanted to find something that would describe the relentlessness of the life of a single mother.  I found a thing or two, but nothing that really hit me where I am at.  I guess I'll have to write it myself.  I can't guarantee I'll be able to comfort myself with this diatribe, however.

It sounds cliché to say how exhausting it is to be a solo parent.  I know all parents are tired.  I know all parents feel "trapped" sometimes.  But as someone who's done both, it's different.  It just is.  There's no getting around the fact that two capable adults in a home make things easier.  There is another person to pick up the slack, another person to take over the parenting when you JUST. CANNOT. DO. ONE. MORE. MINUTE.  There is another person to help cook and clean.  There is another person to shuttle children to activities.  There is another person who can do a grocery run.  There is another person to bring in an income.  There is another person.  Another. Person.

Today began with a sore back, which happens about 50% of the time, even though I've bought a new bed.  My last bed made my back sore close to 90% of the time, so there's that.  Needless to say, I didn't feel rested or ready to do absolutely anything.  I got into a fight with one of my kids, who showed extreme disrespect and snarkiness.  Another child lost and forgot about 5 things before we could get out the door to our Saturday activities.  I lost my temper.

Earlier this week, a situation with another child arose.  It was not unexpected, and in fact, was an outcome I was relieved to have.  In explaining the situation to various people, I have felt judged, and doubted, and that my instincts regarding my own child are wrong.  I didn't feel "known"or "understood".  As a solo parent, I had to deal with this situation on my own and had no one I could process this with.  Everything I do is by myself.  Every decision.  Every consequence implemented.  Every pick up.  Every drop off.  Every appointment.  Every teacher conference.  Every fight over homework.  Every disappointment.

It is difficult, some days, not to grow resentful of the very people I love most on this planet.  I can't live where I wish I could because I can't afford it, not to mention moving would be an emotional upheaval that I cannot deal with.  I can't apply for certain jobs because the hours fall over summers and weekends and evenings.  I can't do that, even though it would earn me more than twice what I currently make.  I can't involve myself in the community and in activities I would enjoy because that would be too many evening away from home.

And yes, many parents are in the same boat.  They can't do whatever they want because their kids' needs come first, as it should be.  But then, when they're stuck at home, they can watch a movie together.  They can talk.  They can make each other laugh.  They can cry and be frustrated together.  They can make each other feel a little less alone in the world.

I am tired.  It is a tired that goes far beyond not getting enough sleep.  I know I've said it before, in this very blog probably, but this is all too much.  It's too much for one person.  My children's father does whatever the hell he wants.  He goes on trips around the world.  He sleeps when he wants.  He can take any job he wants.  He can live wherever he wants.  He never has anyone demanding supper or groceries or birthday parties or school supplies or has anyone throw toys at someone else in his house, or slam their dishes on the counter when they're mad, or lose the things he buys.  He got to walk away and live a free life.  He gets to choose whenever he interacts with his children and doesn't even care if he's imposing on the time they would have gone to camp, meaning now they can't go.

I'm tired.  I want to be "known".  I want to feel loved and understood.  I want to love life and savour every moment because my children are growing up too damn fast, but I'm too freakin' exhausted and used up.  I am prone to depression and being a solo mother only exacerbates that issue in my life.

If any solo parents read this, I'm sorry for not offering any buoyant encouragement.  I can only commiserate with you.  It's relentless, and it's pain, and it reduces a person to their basest self.  Tomorrow, I will do it all again.  Because one thing solo parents don't do, is give up.  Our kids already had one parent give up, so we won't.  I won't.  I will get up and be tired and drag my chronically sore body around.  I will probably not clean my bathroom for the 6th weekend in a row.  I will not get caught up on laundry or dishes.  My body will ache again on Monday, when I will go to work, to a job that is neither fulfilling nor what I want to be doing.  I will come home tired, and the demands will begin again.  I will do my best to love these kids and hope they feel it.  I'll keep going, even when everything in me wants to stop.  It's what I do.