Life has been hard lately. Not the kind of ‘LOL, adulting is tough!’ kind of hard, but the kind of hard where it feels like we are struggling to stay afloat.
Most days, it feels like we are managing life instead of living it. Kids, school, homework, practices, work, and folding the never-ending mounds of laundry. It all seems to be an impossible juggling act. Somewhere in the chaos, we sometimes forget about each other.
We used to be intentional about spending time together. We used to have such big ideas and dreams to share. Now, all of our conversations revolve around scheduling and to-do lists.
I can’t fake pillow talk when all I want at the end of the day is to be quiet. I have sung songs to toddlers on a loop because it’s either that or listen to them yell. I have been screamed at, cried on, and asked 100 questions about absolutely nothing. A tiny person has been touching some part of me every single minute of the day. I have spent the afternoon in survival mode with whiny children, big feelings, and lots of tiny emergencies. I have craved silence. I really want to ask you about work and your day, but I don’t have anything left to give. My brain is mush, and no matter how hard I try, I feel like I am only pretending to listen to you.
I remember us as newlyweds and how obnoxious we used to be. Holding hands anywhere and everywhere, sneaking kisses whenever we had an extra few minutes in the car. I wish I could be that girl for you, but today I just can’t. I’m gross. I’m exhausted. If one more person touches me, I might lose it. I want nothing more than to sit in my invisible bubble where I can have personal space for the first time today.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I love our life. I adore our children. But this is the hard part.
Please Don’t Give Up On Us
The moments of unexplainable love and pride and sheer joy are sprinkled throughout the struggle of keeping up with life. The days are so long. People keep telling us that the years are short, and if is true, let’s hold on to the good stuff and hunker down and let the tough stuff fly by.
We’ve heard of couples whose children grow up and move away. Two people who have been married forever are on their own for the first time in ages, and they suddenly realize that somewhere along the way, they lost each other. Somewhere in the demands of the day to day craziness, they grew apart. They gave all they had to their children, and there was nothing left for themselves. For each other.
Every evening I have intentions of being pleasant and cheerful when you come in from work. I miss having you around. I miss your calming presence and the way you are fun and silly with our kids. I desperately want to be the wife who welcomes her husband with a clean home and dinner. Usually, I welcome you with a sigh of frustration and a countdown to bedtime. If you are lucky, you have around 10 minutes before I start complaining. Nagging. I hear myself. I hate it, but I also don’t know how to stop.
I wonder if at some point it will seem easier to put in extra hours at work instead of coming home to an exhausted wife who seems to be barely holding it together?