OYM Day 76: Head Butt Some Sense Into Me

I cried myself to sleep last night. My daughter was having a hard time falling asleep so I went into her room to lay down with her. For some children, the reassurance of mom or dad probably helps them drift out into a peaceful sleep. To my child, it means playtime. She asked for a different blanket, then a particular pillow, then a stuffed animal. I told her to lay down and as she did, she head butted me right in the nose. The sudden rush of pain and taste of blood settled over me, but I remained quiet, not wanting the excitement to push my daughter even farther from sleep. Tears rolled down the sides of my eyes, but I held in the urge to scream. My daughter hadn’t even noticed and continued to ask for a book, more milk, and her toy car. I knew she didn’t mean to hurt me. Most people never do.

I was starting to lose it. I just wanted her to go to sleep. I just wanted something to work. The whole day had felt like a parental failure. She wouldn’t eat the nutritious meals I made her. She wouldn’t wear the clothes I laid out for her. She wanted me to carry her the entire day, which was near impossible. She kept hitting her dad, taunting the puppy, and making demands while crossing her arms over her chest. Days like this I walk a fine line of staying firm on my boundaries and giving in to have 5 minutes of peace in my day.

And this whole time, I just feel like I want it all to stop. To turn the lights out and give it another try in the next life. I feel the eyes of others on me and can hear them whisper about my short comings when I leave the room. I feel my husbands regret seeping into the air around me like a cologne. He could have married someone easier. I feel my jeans tight around my midsection and my anxiety turns to disgust at the slob I’ve become.

I kiss my daughter on the head and lay her in her crib. She starts screaming almost immediately, but I tell her I love her and close the door. I double over as soon as I hit the bathroom.

I can’t do this.

My face twists into one of an animal in pain. I cry like I have lost a loved one, because I have. I have lost the chance to win in the game of life. To me, to win is to enjoy it, and I certainly am not.

I choke on my silenced cries and gag on the shortness of breath. I hold a bath towel over my mouth and the sound that comes from me is not one I recognize. I can feel my body falling through time and back to a younger version of myself, making a similar sound, also alone, but tucked away in an old basement cabinet. Now I can see that I haven’t really overcome any of my past traumas, but instead I’ve covered them up and forced them down. What a joke, Cassie.

I haven’t cried like this in a long time. At first it felt good to feel the release, the heartbeat moving back to my chest from my throbbing nose. But now I just want it to stop. My husband could potentially hear me and I didn’t want to talk about it. Then I wondered if he could hear me, but is choosing to pretend he can’t, so he doesn’t have to deal with me. He’s watching a movie downstairs and I hope I am far from his mind.

I decide to sleep in the guest room. It’s nearly sound proof and sometimes, after little breakdowns like these, I cry in my sleep. I don’t want my husband to hear. I take a roll of toilet paper and lock the door behind me. My daughter is still awake, 2 hours past her bedtime, but she is just talking to herself now. Many days, my daughter and my husband serve as constant, physical reminders of my failures. The new puppy can be added to this list now, too. I am letting all of them down. My daughter is constantly frustrated, my husband’s threshold for dealing with the life I wanted is crossed daily before 10am, and this new puppy might actually hate me. Each day is a fight to prove them wrong. “See? Told you I could do it!” But I have yet to utter the phrase. Instead the days are riddled with apologies and deep sighs and bouts of rubbing my temples.

And I don’t write this for sympathy or encouragement. I’m just opening my mouth and letting my voice spill out, unedited, because this is me. It’s a very real look into a day in my life. I am overwhelmed and it’s my own fault. My inner voice tells me I’m a fool to think I could be good enough to marry, let alone raise a child. It’s like the universe intended for me to be alone, but I somehow slipped out from under her when she wasn’t looking. And now I’m paying for it. She was right. She’s always right.

I wish I could make my family happy…and I wish my happiness didn’t depend on that, but it does.

When will I learn?