Underwater

I’m not sure I can fully express the burnout that we’re feeling. And I know it’s not just us - when I get together with other parents now, all we talk about is how hopeless we feel, how exhausted, how angry, how done we are. How we can’t possibly keep going another day, but we have no end in sight. We’re all struggling so much, but also dealing with a ton of guilt, because we feel like we can’t complain, because we chose to have these children. We even hoped and prayed for them.

I’m not sure any of us expected life to be like this though. A never ending pandemic where no one cares about keeping kids safe. Work that expects you to devote all your free time to working as if you don’t have kids, and barely pays you enough to combat inflation or pay for daycare. Daycare where we have to send our children so we can work, but they’re all so understaffed and burnt out themselves dealing with this pandemic, they have to keep shutting down.

We’re expected to be present with our children and parent them to be perfect and never have outbursts because this country has forgotten what it’s like to be a child. There aren’t many child welcoming spaces, so if we ever do leave our homes, we’re constantly on edge because we know the judgement we’ll get if our children act like children.

We have no help, so we’re watching the children and cooking and cleaning and running errands and keeping everyone safe and doing all the things. I don’t even know what a hobby is anymore, let alone have time to do the things that need to be done. Neither of us have had a break in forever. I keep saying I’ll find time to hang out with my best friend (without kids), but everything feels impossible.

Honestly right now I’d settle for a daycare that stays open reliably. Tom and I took a day off of work to try and catch our breath and relax, I even had a plan to watch a movie - and instead we got notice that the infant room at daycare is closed indefinitely. So now we’re back to working full time with a baby on our lap?

I hope my children grow up and have no memory of how stressed out their parents were at this point in time. We try hard to not let them notice, but E has started to catch on. I try to keep their life magical, and stay calm and give them all the attention they deserve, even if all I want to do it stay in bed for the next three weeks.

All I want is an end in sight, and instead all we have is unrelentless exhaustion.

All that to say, if you don’t hear from me, don’t take it personal. I’m not operating at my best right now… we’re just trying to survive the day.


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