Just Call Me A Camel

Last week I decided that instead of “Facebook Status-ing” all my woes, that I would blog them instead – it seemed to be less of a waste of words, maybe a better use of them and the energy spent to write them, and I might get more appreciation for them than just casting them onto the navel-gazing world of Facebook where, really, no one cares. So, I have had two “blogging” not status-ing moments, and here’s a third.

Mornings like this one crush me. It’s difficult to explain to those who just don’t get it. I am overwhelmed, as a parent…the schoolrun…there is too much to remember…I’ve got to remember their bags, their homework and, when there are extras (like today, we were supposed to bring in a favourite book for World Book Day), it’s often just too much to handle. I love books (understatement). I should have been excited, but this was the proverbial back-breaking straw. Just call me a camel. I hadn’t remembered at all; I was already battling the weepiness that attacks me most days (especially in the morning).Β  I left my daughter’s school feeling (and knowing) once again I had failed. DON’T ARGUE WITH ME, DAMMIT! It was a failure; call it what it is.

I managed to get my son to playgroup, minus his bag (which I had forgotten) and all the time him fighting me because he didn’t want to go today. I then quickly got back to the house to attempt to find The Velveteen Rabbit (one of my daughter’s favourite books that I used to read to her quite a lot) in order to rush it back to the school so she wouldn’t be one of the only children that didn’t bring in her own book. But, another failure… I tried to find it. I failed.

As a parent, I constantly fail. Again, don’t you argue with me! It is failure. FAILURE!Β  And, when they are throwing their tantrums and treating me and each other like poo, I crumble. I fail. Do not tell me that I am being too hard on myself. Do not LIE to me!

There is no happy turn at the end of this post like the others. No redemption of it at the finishing line. Don’t look for it. Today, reduced to sobs that wrack and ravage my soul, I am going to wallow. Today I am going to let the Waterfall take me, because life – and parenthood – sucks! Don’t argue with me. Just don’t.


9 responses to “Just Call Me A Camel

  1. My experience has been that if I feel that sense of failure like you described and I have, nobody can change my mind. What I also discovered was not what I expected…I learned that because my family could see that overwhelmed look on my face, they could feel that I was frustrated with my perceived failure. What they were witnessing affected them which in turn affected me. It just kind of snowballed a bit. I knew I needed to fix it somehow but I also knew that it was going to be challenge so I decided that at least I could experiment a little by changing my outward appearance, at least in their presence….ok, I faked it! It wasn’t like this sense of failure just disappeared but what I learned was that my renewed attitude seemed to put them at ease more. In turn I kinda felt less pressure to not fail all the time because everyone in the household felt more relaxed regardless of the failure scorecard. This isn’t science but for me it was a “try it and see” thing that has seemed to help.

    Oh btw, the way I found out that people could see the failure on my face was because someone asked me “hey, you look defeated, what gives?”

    You’re not a failure (couldn’t resist), you’re just not faking it as well as people are…I’m kidding, but I think you get what I mean. One more thing I learned and will likely apply to you as well…our families need us!

  2. Would lists help? I have a whiteboard that I use for list-y things. I have a pretty terrible memory (especially these days) and if I know, a bit ahead of time, what I need to do/bring on a certain day, I find it a lifesaver. But then…I also really like lists. πŸ™‚ I’m one of THOSE people.

      • I absolutely am not suggesting that you become someone else, just thought I’d offer my solution to my (ridiculous) forgetfulness.

        Don’t give up on yourself, Autumn. You always do what you need to do to get where you need to be. Look at your trending tuneage on the world wide intrawebs, your fanbase on The Facebook and both the musical feet picture and homemade flowers from those beautiful kidlets. It’s easy to focus on the negative, especially when you’re depressed, but you have a lot of positives to notice, too.

      • Tryyyyyyying not to disagree with you, Autumn, but…failing, lol. Sorry, but I don’t buy the idea that to write a list of stuff to remember you’d have to be “a different person”. Let’s see: Every time you do a gig, you have, guess, what? – a set LIST. You wouldn’t dream of doing without one. You provide a LIST of songs to be used in church. You can write lists. You can be organised.

        I’m speculating that the difference with the school run and the like is that they’re a chore rather than a pleasure; a necessity rather than something you feel “passionate” about. But they still matter and you’re perfectly capable of applying the same tactics to domestic routines as to musical ventures.

        So I’ll do as I’m told and not argue about the failure thing. But the remedy thing is another matter. Simple practical measures that you’ve ALREADY proved you can use.

        I’m not trying to be harsh – no, I’m not – don’t ARGUE πŸ™‚ I’m trusting you’ll receive this in the spirit it’s sent. I have every confidence in ya πŸ˜‰

  3. I won’t disagree with you, at the same time a dear friend of mine bought out the city I live in of a book about how to make lists to organize life. I got one for Christmas. To me, life is a roller coaster, and I’m blindfolded. So it goes up and down over and over. I’m working on building my tool box to handle life, fortunately one piece is a personal organizing class that took 2 hours and came with handouts. The Bad Mother’s Handbook is again on my mind, so I shall watch it again perhaps. The one thing I cannot condone in myself is my failures as a mother. I think of how hard I try, yet I cannot do what I feel is good enough. Somehow, I can get past everything but that. It is where self-compassion fails me and I cannot ‘just get over it’. Parenting emptied my Bottle.

  4. Hey Autumn, I don’t have a bottle, but I got to make my own box to fill with things to do when I’m panicked. It’s my Top Secret Coping Kit! Right now, it’s mostly empty, or maybe it’s full of hope? I’m going to be adding to it…

  5. Pingback: The Struggling Artist (Give Me A Chance) | Forever Autumn

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