Being a friend is a powerful thing. Having people I know I'll do anything for; means that even when I'm not able to look after myself - I'll do as much as I can for them. This week, what I could/can do; is be here. So I loaded up my bags, hopped on a train, and dropped myself into a situation that is FAR from ideal.
Animals. Chaos. Children. Unpredictability. I'm toast.
Helping out, helps me. I know when I get home, I'll feel good that I could help. I'll feel positive that I made another family's week easier. I'll feel happy looking at pictures drawn for me. There's so much 'healing' I get from being here, that the exhaustion, the mental withdrawal I feel happening; is worth it.
So tired. Thankfully, there's a super comfy couch, and my napping game is strong.
Can I do this more often? Ah, no. This is HARD. Being around the chaos of a big family, a family who bicker, cuddle, play, joke, snore, and tease; is a continual drip of lemon juice into the wounds of my own emotional damage. The entire situation seems an indictment of my failings as a mother. A judgment on what I couldn't achieve. and here's the thing... that isn't real. I know that I have only ever done the best I could do in any given situation. I know I gave all I was capable of giving. I know I am not a complete and utter loser. Knowing this, doesn't change how I feel.
So. I'm trying to hold it together, be as good a friend as I can. To be as good an 'aunt' as I can. To give the support I'm here to give. While my brain tells me to go home and hide because I'm useless. With a body unwilling to move. A couple more days. A few more random conversations with youngsters. A few more couch naps. Just a little more support.
Oh, another positive, kitty cuddles at night. Purring is nice.
Derri.
Animals. Chaos. Children. Unpredictability. I'm toast.
Helping out, helps me. I know when I get home, I'll feel good that I could help. I'll feel positive that I made another family's week easier. I'll feel happy looking at pictures drawn for me. There's so much 'healing' I get from being here, that the exhaustion, the mental withdrawal I feel happening; is worth it.
So tired. Thankfully, there's a super comfy couch, and my napping game is strong.
Can I do this more often? Ah, no. This is HARD. Being around the chaos of a big family, a family who bicker, cuddle, play, joke, snore, and tease; is a continual drip of lemon juice into the wounds of my own emotional damage. The entire situation seems an indictment of my failings as a mother. A judgment on what I couldn't achieve. and here's the thing... that isn't real. I know that I have only ever done the best I could do in any given situation. I know I gave all I was capable of giving. I know I am not a complete and utter loser. Knowing this, doesn't change how I feel.
So. I'm trying to hold it together, be as good a friend as I can. To be as good an 'aunt' as I can. To give the support I'm here to give. While my brain tells me to go home and hide because I'm useless. With a body unwilling to move. A couple more days. A few more random conversations with youngsters. A few more couch naps. Just a little more support.
Oh, another positive, kitty cuddles at night. Purring is nice.
Derri.
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