I wake to the sounds of my child crying, my own human alarm clock. I close my eyes and silently beg for just 5 minutes more, as I’m not ready to start another day that will inevitably be just like the last.
While my little ones smiles give me bursts of happiness, his screams however, drive me to madness. I snap at him numerous times throughout the day, please stop making that horrible whinging sound, I’ll give you anything.
People tell me that all mothers have those feelings of uselessness, as if I should find comfort in that fact, but all I feel is hollow. My kid is 2 years old now and I’m still waiting for those maternal instincts to kick in, any day now.
Medication, medication, medication. I’m sure that people can hear me rattling as I walk by. I take them in the hopes that I will feel better for it but instead I feel twisted and lost. I fear that the search for the right medication and the right dose may very well destroy me.
The paranoia is kicking back in but luckily I’m too exhausted to feel terribly put out by the people in my roof and the whispering in my head can’t keep me awake any more than my child can in the middle of the day. Exhaustion runs my life. How is it that I can still feel so alone even though I never am?
I’m floating through my life in a drugged out daze, dreaming of the day when I will be free of this. Until then I continue on, groundhog day.