I’ve written about this before, but let me reiterate: this season of life is hard. Seriously – it’s no joke, you guys. I’m pouring what little energy I have left into my job, which leaves no time for much else. My connections with friends are scant, although I know they’re there. We’re all running on our respective hamster wheels and just trying to get by. We make plans with the best of intentions and by the time Friday comes, we’re ready for bed by 9 p.m. – plans or not.
** Update: this was written in 2015. Re-reading this makes me realize how far I’ve come since then. I’ve finally adjusted to motherhood and my life feels ‘normal’ again. I talk with a therapist as often as I can (I find talk therapy helps me more than medication) and I’ve switched medications a few times. I’ve also been diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder. But I feel SO. MUCH. BETTER. **
I never wanted to be a Mother.
This stage of life is hard.
We rush from one activity to the next. We’re trying to advance in our careers while still maintaining some semblance of sanity. We’re never fully focused at work, always anticipating that call from daycare or school. The schooling we so carefully and expensively pursued has done nothing to prepare us for this. We’re living for the weekends, which turn into disorganized chaos because we’re all so used to routine. We try to strike a balance between planning and “living in the moment”, and end up with a terrible combination of both that makes Monday morning feel like a reprieve.
I spent the early weeks of my daughter’s life on the same spot on the couch. To this day, the cushion serves as a stark reminder of those times: worn out and significantly flattened by its many hours of use. The cycle went: wake, cry, eat, cry, eat, cry, eat, cry, sleep. Repeat. And for the first time in my life, I felt a particular type of anger bubbling up within me more times than I could count: white hot flashes of rage that terrified me, forcing me to place her in her crib while I stepped outside to remind myself to breathe.
I felt like I was having a heart attack.
I’m so sorry for my lack of updates. One word: midterms. (TMI: I’m actually writing this post via my iPhone in the bathtub – multitasking for the win!). I’ve been significantly less stressed out this year compared to first year, and I’m not sure that’s a good thing. I attribute it mostly to my spending as little time at the law school as possible to avoid the realization that other Type A law students such as myself are currently experiencing the mental breakdowns I’m inevitably slated for after I get my midterm marks back and realize my nonchalant attitude is getting me nowhere. (Well, it may be saving a few years of my life, but aren’t grades more important, anyway? I kid. Sort of. Unless you ask a law student, who will invariably answer “yes” to that question because we’re all crazy overachievers).