Yesterday I was struggling a lot. I was spent, I had worked too hard during the day, both with my mind and body. I went to the kitchen around dinner time and felt so overwhelmed. It was up to me to make dinner, because who else would do it? There wasn’t any food on the table yet anyway and somehow the food needs to make it there… I felt resentful towards my partner Tim who didn’t see and didn’t take responsibility for this matter and also resentful that he could have made things easier for me but chose not too. I was resentful towards my child who kept whining for snacks and attention – how was I supposed to make dinner when she demanded more and more? When everyone and everything demanded more than I could muster?
I took the ”easy” way out. I grabbed a glas of wine and let the sweet buzz alleviate my feeling of uncomfortableness. I suffocated my own suffocation. I put my baby Lily in Tim’s arms and in a muted rage I made dinner. Dinner got made and served, but I was in no better place. My true feelings were still unprocessed: the strain from the day was still brewing underneath. I chowed down the food – not wanting to think, just wanted to get rid of my uncomfortableness.
I know, I have been here many times before. Bingeing food and drinking alcohol doesn’t solve anything longterm, at least when it comes from this place of wanting to get rid of an unwanted mental state. But what I also know is that in the moment of feeling this way, it is so very overwhelming, and what I need then is not a lecture. I need compassion. Yes, this is hard! Yes, you have unmet needs! I see you, I listen to you. Do what you need to do, and then we can talk.
I went to bed and couldn’t sleep. My babygirl struggled with sleep too, which kept the feeling of suffocation very much alive. She needed me but I just needed some time for myself and gather myself. But no, apparently now was not the time, at least not in the way I imagined it to happen. Again, eventually, I went downstairs and gave Lily to Tim who was still up and said: please, take care of our daughter, I need help.
I went upstairs to our bedroom again and grabbed a pen and my journal. I wrote down exactly how I felt. Uncensored, non-pretty. Raw and real. All the rage towards people who I felt used me, didn’t see me or had too high demands on me. I wrote about my disappointment with myself: how I should know better by know – I do know better! – my intense feelings of guilt and bad conscious especially towards Lily, who needs a stable and reliable parent. After that mental purge I could get in touch with me underneath all the drama. I know that all these accusations are not anything more than just thoughts and opinions – a way I chose to interpret the world. With my choice comes my consequence, my suffering.
I know I am a reliable and stable parent, because I always come back. I always go back to my mess and ask for forgiveness or at least talk things out with people, if applicable. I come back to myself. This is what I know from experience, I always come back. With that faith, I can rest reassured that my states of uncomfortableness will pass and I will feel differently at some point. There is no point in forcing anything, I trust the process.
I can’t change overnight, and neither can Tim or Lily. I don’t necessarily want change, I want to learn. I want to understand how to best support myself and those around me. This is what I choose to take with me from this recent escapade of uncomfortableness, rage and suffocation.
One thing I might alter though, is perhaps to put up a list of easy dinner options inside of our kitchen cabinet. My choice of actually cooking a dish is a choice based on my ideas of how things are supposed to be. We are supposed to eat proper meals for dinner, with lots of veggies!!! Are we now? 🙂