Laundry at midnight

When my husband and I first married we worked the irregular hours that 18 and 19 year olds with something to prove worked: late nights, early mornings, day shifts, split shifts. Just as long as we were together at the end of the night we were happy. 

I would get off work earlier than him, and walk or bike to the service station where he worked and wait for him to be done. Once he closed the station late on Saturday night, we'd go home, cram all of our laundry into two baskets and go to the laundromat. We'd have the machines and the midnight hours almost always to ourselves in that little laundromat. We'd talk about hopes and dreams knowing that we'd not be working that hard forever. We knew some day we'd live in a house and have our own washer and dryer and we'd leisurely do our laundry on Mondays like proper folks.

Tonight, after a long, painful week I came home to the piles of clothes I left sorted on the floor. I never thought I'd be this tired. I never imagined that every single step would be this miserable. When we were young there were times when laundry at midnight was just what we did. And later there were times that laundry at midnight couldn't be tolerated. Children often dictate those times simply by existing as children. But tonight, the laundry needed finished.

After I dragged my weary self into the house and took care of the nightly duties that my husband usually does before I get home, I faced down the laundry. Four loads awaited me. So four loads I've washed, dried, folded and put away. In the end I hate doing laundry this way. I really want to believe that the kids notice me doing my laundry even at the end of an exhausting week, but its well past 1 a.m. now.  They'll never even think about what I did in the hours after they went to bed. I'm not sure they even realize just how exhausted I am at the end of a week.

Every day this week I've arrived home at a very dark hour exhausted and weary. My husband is working in a different state, leaving the kids and I to manage without him. I'll be honest, it is so hard. I don't normally grocery shop. I only do a load of laundry here and there. I don't normally take care of the pets. I'm not home during prime homework hours or even when my oldest gets home. I'm usually so exhausted that I don't line out the day for any of the kids. I exist until I can control my pain and fatigue and then I contribute with the occasional lesson taught, a little cooking and I work. I know my failings as a mom with this knee so I work as hard and as much as I can in order to at least provide financially.

This week has been so hard though. I don't know how on earth we are going to rebuild our lives if living is so damn hard. The pain and exhaustion, as well as obligations, are so daunting. I do not know how other parents manage. This week I've been on my own, and never has it been more obvious just how alone we are here. Other people have family and friends who they can count on but we really don't. Not in the sense that I can ask for help. 

Limitations

The injury I suffered a couple of years ago has destroyed not only the knee that it happened to but by compensating for it the other knee and two discs in my lower back are in serious trouble now. Some days its really hard to walk or move my legs. Usually at the end of the week I suffer more from the extra steps I've taken. My Sundays are spent mostly in bed or in a recliner. I hate it but its what I have to do in order to keep my family afloat.

While I jump through the hoops that insurance requires of me, and the conservative doctors in my areas hem and haw around about how to treat my compounding problems I still have to work and face every day. 

Sometimes when the pain is bad and my legs just don't work anymore I use a wheelchair. Its liberating being able to leave the house and go someplace despite the pain. There are some major downsides though.

Even as the chair allows me more freedom, its a huge inconvenience to the people around me. Its heavy and bulky and slow. I'm overweight and since I've not put the time into building my arm strength I'm slow. And I'm ashamed to need help being pushed on hills. I don't really know how to open doors by myself, and I'm not strong enough to manage some things on my own.  

Its embarrassing to my family. No one wants to load up the chair to go shopping or even out for a walk.  Its heartbreaking that I'm not going places because I need too much help. Its embarrassing for me to be a part-time wheelchair user too. I've used the chair at work a couple of times, usually at the end of a terrible work week when I was just incapable of walking into the office. Nothing has mortified me more than the person from advertising thinking it was OK to grill me on my wheelchair use when I was just trying to pick up my copies from the printer. 

I hate to call in sick when I'm perfectly able to do my work with a simple modification of using wheels instead of legs, but after that loud and embarrassing questioning I will not use the chair when most others are around. Fortunately, the last day of my work week is Saturday when the office is quiet, and a few tactful coworkers are the other people in the office.

I miss the days of going where I want when I want. I miss the days of taking the kids out for hikes. I miss walking my dogs. And I miss the nightly walks that my husband and I used to take. 

Another birthday

I observed another birthday yesterday. I took an extremely rare day off of work to stay home, nap and hang out with my children. We went out for a dinner where I didn't have to split my meal with someone else (although I probably should have) and then came home for cake. I opened a couple of gifts -- soap and kitchen items.

Oh, and nothing makes you feel old like receiving a permanent disability placard from the DMV on your birthday.

I continue to work hard to make sure my family is provided for, and I'm grateful for my job as always. 

A recent conversation turned to the fate of a family member who is in his 20's. As the speaker lamented the young man's low income and how hard it is for him to find a place to rent and to pay for necessities she brought up his actual pay.  He makes as much as I do. I feel bad for his relationship status, and his other problems, but his supposed poverty is insulting.  

Or maybe I'm just so very, very tired of my own struggle that someone else's just doesn't elicit the sort of sympathy it should. 

It is the same bitterness I feel now when I think about someone who desperately needed money earlier this year. After many thank yous and promises to pay it back the next month, it wasn't. It was my own fault for letting someone else's desperation take precedence over my own planning. My desire to help someone else outweighed my good sense. That is a painfully expensive lesson.

There's a snowball effect too.  I finally managed to maximize my efficiency at work so I was performing all of my tasks at a reasonably high quality with minimum issues and mistakes and in less time. But now that we are again out of savings I've had to ask for more work. I see less of my family and am increasingly bitter at people who don't value hard work in the same way.

I'm too tired to be effective at homeschooling the two kids who are still at home. I'm too tired and in too much pain to have any life outside of work. I dread the oncoming winter and holidays since I know it will be yet another year where I can't provide for my children.

So my life lessons this year are laced with ever-increasing bitterness.  Eventually I hope to just get to the point where I don't feel bad about being bitter.

Unrelenting fear

As we know by now, its the unrelenting fear that wears us down when facing poverty and pain. It eats at the mind -- always there, always mocking every effort, always making sure we know what the count is and how close to failure we are. Obviously, we've failed spectacularly over the past two years. And some of that failure we will never be able to remedy. We won't be able to erase it, or make it better with happy memories. The darkness of that failure will be carried forever. You can't erase mistakes in life.

So its with this new autumn that we prepare for the next round of challenges. With my oldest's brutally early schedule and my own late one we have to navigate how I can continue to be the mom she needs. For less than an hour every morning as she gets ready for the day I catch such tiny glimpses of what she is facing, learning and experiencing. Its hard to go from hours a day together to a few groggy minutes in the dark of morning.

I do what I have to do to keep my family sheltered from the approaching winter. I do what I can to ensure that we are safe. But its so difficult at times to hope that my choices aren't the reason my kids fail in their lives.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

I've started a number of new posts over the months and not finished any of them. So many little things.  So many big things. So many things that never seem to change have taken place. So many interruptions.

The moment the kids hear the sounds of me tapping away on the keyboard of this ancient laptop, they congregate -- needing more attention than they have asked for in days. I've tried to sneak off to update the blog, and I've tried to double-check on each person before I've started, but as all moms know there is no way to ensure that you can have a peaceful moment to hash out life on the keyboard.

We've had big changes here. My oldest has decided to go to school in a brick and mortar school. While we've always said we want the best possible education for the individual, its a little harder when the time came for one of my kids to take control of their education and future. So we've supported her in her change, and try to make it less of a culture shock. But the truth is that going from an education that is self-directed and takes place in the comfort of home to one in an institution will never be easy. Being told when you are allowed to think and when you can't, when you are allowed to eat, drink and use the bathroom instead of when your body says you should and the only steps you are allowed to take in order to come to the only correct answer is overwhelming. And she is overwhelmed.

And now, because with the fees and supplies involved in going to a free, public school, we can't afford to bring her home to continue learning at her own pace in an environment where the dress code is yoga casual. Its heartbreaking and we can only pray that she overcomes the shock and the immense anxiety and manages to swim instead of sink.

In other news, I continue to deal with my knees and back painfully falling apart, with arthritis now affecting more and more joints as time goes on. What started as an injury that should have been taken care of has turned into a giant mess of pain. Often with every joint, tendon and muscle from the waist down in agony. Days are spent gritting my teeth and hoping to survive. Nights are spent avoiding sleep that won't come and carefully arranging myself to reduce the amount of pressure on my knee. Even the sheet is too rough and painful to the joint.

I did finally get clearance for a Synvisc shot that many people claimed to have worked wonderfully for them. No one mentioned how incredibly painful the shot itself was -- I passed out. Nor did anyone mention that the side effects were actually quite horrible. But then again the literature claimed less than six percent of patients experiences any or all of them. I was in that small percentage of people who experienced all of the side effects and for longer than promised. If only my chances at the lottery were so good.

So these are the changes worth mentioning. I get up early to see my oldest for the 30 minutes it takes her to get around for school and out the door to the bus, followed by days of keeping my other two on track in their educations. Nights of work followed by late nights of restlessness as sleep evades me. I don't ever get ahead in any of these endeavors which just proves that the poor are lazy and good for nothing.

Self-pity

I admit it, I've been feeling unappreciated. Its one of the downsides of this life, or any I suppose. At home, I'm not as necessary, having taught my kids to be more self-sufficient. And I cannot tell you how much I rely on their abilities to cook, clean, care for the animals and keep the household running. All three of them are incredible people. This sufficiency is priceless and was and is worth all of the doubt and judgement that people expressed over my pushing the kids to learn from a very early age.

I rely on the kids so much. I need them here to do things that I just am unable to do now. And while I trust them and I trust their training and knowledge, I try not to take advantage of it. Its hard going from having a stay-at-home mom that was involved to having a working mom who is barely able to cope. I don't want them to feel like they have to take care of everything without a parent to help them.

So while I'm immensely proud of my children for stepping up when I work, I feel bad because I can't do it all.

This was one of those weeks. The kind that I struggle through the little challenges, and it seemed like there were so many of them. I did jobs that needed to be done but it was a struggle to do so. I felt like I supported everyone else in what they needed to do, but there wasn't a lot of support for me to draw upon. Its the nature of my position in both my personal and professional life.

And as I slogged through, the weekend looked no better. With my husband gone to take the oldest to summer camp, I've fought through the sleepless nights and exhausted days as the RP (responsible parent). And my second-born has done more than her share of the work to help me.

We should have celebrated Father's Day and our wedding anniversary today. The kids gave their dad his gift on Saturday morning before he left. I anticipated that my husband would be back tonight from his trip dropping the oldest off, but he decided to stay in Oregon another night instead. So beyond a couple of text messages our anniversary was overlooked.

So here I am, feeling a bit sorry that we missed our anniversary.  Feeling irritated that work didn't turn out the way I wanted this week and feeling exhausted.

There isn't a fix for it.  There is no vacation to escape. This is the day-to-day life of someone who is tired and overwhelmed.

Another failed night

Once again I've given up the pretense of sleeping. I don't know what sleep is anymore. I can't remember going to bed and sleeping or waking up ready to face the day. I can't remember even the joy of falling into bed exhausted knowing that sleep would cure me. Every night is a worsening ritual of failing to find even a single position where the pain is alleviated enough to fall asleep.  It's somewhat horrible to live in constant, worsening pain.

I worry. 

My husband and his partner are very close to launching a project. One that has the potential to bring us out of this poverty that we've struggled with for way too long. He's logged many hours in research and has many more to go. And as is the case in his line of work, he will have to start traveling again. 

I don't worry about his safety. I don't worry about the many miles they will travel. I don't worry about the risks they take. I worry about how I will manage without him here.

My husband does so much just to keep me working. He knows that every step hurts, and every minute I stand is painful. He does the household chores and keeps everything running. He gets up in the morning and makes sure that the day starts so I can sleep if I've managed to fall asleep. He takes the kids to their activities and supervises their schoolwork. On occasion he goes so far as to help me dress when walking across the bedroom or standing up is just too much. 

I'm just not sure how I will manage to take care of not only myself, but my kids, pets and home if he is gone. I used to grouse when he was gone, but I could handle it. Now, I'm not so sure.