People don’t seem to realize that I’m a person who gives all of myself to the people I love. I calmly and (at least usually) happily give to the people I care about with little concern about my own needs and wants. I tend to believe that the needs of others come before my own and it makes me happy to make them happy. This normal feedback loop has been disrupted of late because of how miserable everyone has been around me.

Puppy is working 60+ hrs a week, usually closer to 80 hrs a week, particularly if you count his continual Saturday shifts at Habitat. K has been sick for nearly two weeks now and, while getting somewhat better, is still being hit hard by the combo of creeping crud hitting her when her immune system is already weak. The kids have been sick and have alternated between extremely sick to the point of crying, whining, and being miserable, and being sick but bouncing off the fucking walls crazy. I have been doing exams, finals, term papers, school bullshit that I have another eight weeks of starting Monday.

This is what I see in regards to the people in my life compared to me:

K has friends and she is constantly being asked places by people. I’m glad for her in this regard as she needs the happy distractions. She is kind of like me in the fact that her friends can also be very emotionally needy at times that becomes more of a chore, but it is an understandable part of the whole friendship gig.

Puppy doesn’t have a social life really: He is like his mother in the fact that “relaxation” means doing another project. I don’t have a problem with this as he has made a friend of the contractor he works with at Habitat and normally has eight hours a week where he can go build houses and do what he is told and not have to worry about the drama and politics of his workplace.

The kids have school: While the kids have missed school the past two weeks on and off because of illness, generally they have some time a week where they are able to be out and see people their own age. They thrive on this and really seem to hate the weekends because they can’t be with friends.

Then there is me: I’m at home all but maybe two hours per week when I take the kids to their therapy sessions. I walk to the bus stop each morning to take the kids to school, have to be home before noon to pick up the younger one from his half-days bus. Have to be home again before three thirty for the older one’s bus. Have to make dinner, have to get the house picked up or Puppy comes home and gets overly upset about everything because he hates coming  home to a messy house.

I have to do my school work, a full-time course load. I have to clean. I have to cook. I have to sort and do laundry. I have to clean up after two small boys. I have to care for a kitten and dog. I have to make sure that everyone has everything they need for the next day. I have to do everything and I don’t get a break.

I am hitting my breaking point: Who am I kidding? I hit my breaking point a while back and am just barely keeping my head above water long enough to gasp for breath, scream, and go under again. I’m handling remarkably well considering, but I always do: I’m the one who has to have it together because everyone relies on me. Nobody wants to see me angry, nobody wants to see what happens when I break, nobody.

The cracks are showing though, the anger seeps through. I can’t control it as well when I’m sick, when the z-pack making me itch and feel awful. My GI tract is a nightmare right now, a side-effect of the z-pack as well. I have three more days of the pills and hopefully after that I can start returning to normal…well whatever fucked-up approximation I can have thereof.