I'm really struggling today. Well, not just today, but today I feel it heavier than usual. Perhaps its from all the illness circulating amongst friends and family and the holiday let down and all that.
My therapist said a few weeks ago that she thinks I'm the type of person who finds parenthood hard to accept. That its my sense of responsibility that keeps me on track, not an overflowing love of children and/or parenting. At first this took me back, but I'm beginning to understand that its true. In all honesty, I don't really enjoy being a parent, at least not at this point. When people say to enjoy this age with the kids, I nod and agree, but inside I'm thinking, "Huh? This is the worst time. I can't wait for them to be older and more self-sufficient".
This doesn't mean that I don't love them. I do. And perhaps even more importantly, I feel a great sense of responsibility for their care and upbringing. Even on the days that I don't feel much love towards them, that responsibility remains.
When the kids were at my Mom's last night, despite being sick, I felt blissfully free. We went out to dinner, and then breakfast. Over to the library, got new tires, all with no rush or stress or concern. I was happy to see them when we got to my Mom's, but as soon as we left the oppression returned. I don't know how else to explain it other than oppression. It feels so ugly and heavy and it makes it impossible to enjoy having children. It sucks all the motivation and enthusiasm out of me. It makes me angry and resentful and bitter. Its an utter hopelessness of looking forward and seeing nothing but hardships and trials and drudgery for the next 18 years.
Oh, I know it sounds all dramatic and such and probably tomorrow I'll snort and say, "I can't believe I wrote that" but tonight its a heavy burden on my back.