into the undertow
Sometimes I think I maybe got out of this mostly unscathed. I mean… my entire life was shattered and I had to relocate and start over, sure, but I often feel like I’ve landed on my feet. I feel lucky to not spend every day seeking the will to get out of bed. I feel lucky that most of my emotions are of gratitude and excitement alongside my heartbreak. But then there are days like today, and it becomes so, so clear to me that there is still a ton of trauma trapped in my body.
I work in a classroom with babies 3 days a week right now. There are so many illnesses going around right now that basically half our staff and kids are out. Today the main teacher in our classroom was out, and I ended up only having 3 babies (one of which was my own), which means according to state regulations I’m allowed to just work alone. So I did. Which meant that all day, there were 3 babies crying with needs, and I was frantically running around trying to to everything with one set of hands. Rinsing dishes and loading the dishwasher while someone screeching from a high chair, rocking one baby to sleep as another would start a chain reaction of crying so I’d have to start over, peeling a banana for one baby while another sobs from the floor for a bottle.
It’s hard to explain, but it did something physically to my body and nervous system. I don’t use this word a lot, but I felt… triggered, honestly. My whole life since Pete died, every single day since, has been frantically trying to take care of needs with one set of hands. I’m constantly gasping for air trying to stay afloat. And having to do it all day at work today just really messed with me. It’s been hours and hours and I still feel totally riled up and panicked. I can’t shake it. Emotionally it’s like I’m right back to those days right after Pete died, when I had no idea how to take care of two kids and myself and every single day felt like drowning. I’ve grown to be such a strong swimmer, but today I straight up feel like I got taken into the undertow.
It feels like I’ve hit some kind of tipping point. For almost 2 months, I’ve been juggling my remote work for the ice cream shop, 3 full days a week at the school, 7+ hours a week of massage school (and I’m supposed to be giving 4 massages a week, but I can’t manage to squeeze that in), plus the usual of raising and caring for a 1 year old and a 5 year old. My days are insane and not at all sustainable. Today, for example, I left the house at 7:30, filled the car with gas, dropped Axl at school, raced to my job at the childcare center, spent my lunch break ordering my groceries, drove into town to pick them up after work, drove back out of town to get Axl from school. I fed the kids and made their lunches and got them in bed. It’s now 8pm and I haven’t yet tackled my mountain of dishes, filled out the DMV paperwork I need for tomorrow, or sat in this panicky terror for a minute in hopes I can feel it and let it pass.
The Super Mario movie trailer made me cry because you won’t get to watch it with us. Axl is watching a Netflix show he last would’ve watched curled up on the couch with you. Ford waves to your picture and urn. I’m going tomorrow to officially take ownership of your car and get rid of our MA License plates. My heart hurts today. Everything hurts and is hard and I just get so tired. I want to give up so badly sometimes.