Come Undone

I lost it tonight.  Again.  Time number...oh shit, I've lost count anyway.  Why, you ask?  Because apparently, I'm incapable of handling the smallest bumps in motherhood.  Tonight's bump was Elizabeth announcing at 8:30 (that's bedtime) that she had to poop and taking until 9:00 to NOT poop.  And I lost my shit.  What is wrong with me?  I joke about being crazy, I joke about being imbalanced, I joke that motherhood is driving me to padded walls...maybe it's not a joke.  Maybe I'm just not equipped.  How on earth am I going to raise calm, reasonable, sane, tenacious, productive, assertive kids when mom is a screaming, flying off the handle, crying easily, prone to depression, fighting the urge to drink, crazy person?

Here's the thing.  I have it good.  Really, really good.  I'm married to my best friend, I live in a beautiful home in a gorgeous city and have two very healthy children.  We have the money for me to stay home, we have terrific supportive friends, and I truly have nothing to complain about.

Have there been bumps in the road?  Yes.  But I look around and see people who have climbed mountains.  MOUNTAINS.  Not those inspirational stories in the media... I know real people who I can see and touch.  Yes, my parents were divorced... it was before I can remember, they were always not just civil to each other but actually DEFENDED each other and I got two kick-ass step parents out of the deal.  I have three friends who lived through horribly abusive parents and thrived, are incredibly successful and they're great parents.  Yes, I'm prone to depression, have struggled with panic attacks and had to once sign a form that said I agree to be committed if I try to harm myself again.  I know someone who has struggled with with bi-polar disorder, tried suicide, lost her mom and doesn't fold the way I do when my son wakes up whining.  Yes, I was bullied horribly as a kid, but I know someone who turned that same experience into a successful writing career.  Yes, I was abused by a boyfriend in high school, but I know someone who has survived rape and has her shit together more than I do.  Yes, stay at home motherhood is rough (and I will slap the next person who asks me what it's like not to "work" anymore), but I have friends and family with special needs kids and they are the masters of thinking positive.

So what's my deal?  Why is it my daughter's inability to stay in her seat at lunch LITERALLY makes my chest hurt?  Why is it when we're running late to school I start swearing like a long shoreman from San Pedro? (shoutout to my home town)  Why is it I start of each day trying to "start new" with some yoga or running or a positive attitude and within 5 minutes of waking them up, my kids make me come undone?  Every single day, I come undone.

Do I go back to therapy?  Find medication?  Start running miles and miles and miles?  Seriously, what the hell?  Why can I not handle this life?  I wrote once, when my Opa died, that I write when I'm lost, when I don't know what else to do. So here I am... writing again.  Maybe the answers are in between the lines.