7:30 pm. Kids all asleep.
I switched off all the lights. Settled down in bed, wrapping myself in the thick blanket. And in that complete darkness and absolute silence, I bursted into tears.
Sobbing. Hard.
Like a little OCD girl whose favourite doll just dropped into a muddy puddle.
Every emotion that I have been suppressing the entire day came hit me all at once.
I don’t know if I am depressed. All I know is that I need a break. I need a day or two to myself. Without kids screaming to my ears fighting over some silly figurines or which YouTube video to watch.
I love my kids. With all my heart and soul. That goes without saying. I could not live without them. But a mom deserves to have a moment to herself, to remind her that this world, her world, consists of things more than just her kids. And I need that moment. Desperately.
My husband? He’s the best. He’s been so amazing. Seriously. We’ve been together for so long, he can read me like an open book. He’s struggling too, I know, but he’s always there to hug me every single time my emotion gets the best of me. He knows stress management isn’t my best feature. He keeps asking me every single night, when it’s just the two of us, if I’m okay. If today is harder than yesterday. If I need some time to recharge.
I do. Of course I do. But the thing is, I want my me-time to involve him. I want to go on a kid-free getaway with him. I want him to be with me, just him. But I couldn’t do that. At least here. Who’s gonna take care of the kids if we both go away? Asking anyone to fly all the way here, to look after the kids while we’re having the time of our lives is just plain selfish. One of us needs to stay, and going away on my own will only intensify my loneliness.
Yes. I’m lonely. Despite being surrounded by kids all day long, I feel so alone. I don’t have friends here. I mean I do and they’re all great and supportive and pretty much like family to me, but at the end of the day, everyone has their own commitment that I will find myself lurking at the quiet corner of Starbucks, having that sip of Frappucino alone. And it’s okay. They have their own struggles, and I totally, totally understand.
Most of the time, I am okay. How can’t I? My children, they are smart, adorable, witty, forgiving. Even after I turned into a horrible monster who yelled at them constantly, they still want me to kiss them good night. But they’re kids. There are good days, bad days, screaming days, fighting days, crying days, and sometimes it got too overwhelming and I lost it. I wasn’t known for my patience. And me being a hormonal, emotional wreck these days, didn’t make things easier either.
Gosh I miss working. I miss having more purpose to my life than raising kids and preparing meals and washing clothes. I miss sending my kids to kindergartens and spending that stolen two hours watching movies and eating ice cream with my husband. I love being a mom, but I also love being myself. And I know I will be a better mom, if I can always be non-mom me.
I guess not everyone can excel in being a good housewife. Especially me, who doesn’t have enough patience, so bad at handling stress that I break down every three days and keep wanting that time off I couldn’t have.
So for now, I’m praying hard that my husband’s PhD journey will run smoothly, so that he can graduate on time and we can go back home and be close to our families and live our usual lives. And for Allah to bless me with more and more patience each day, because He knows how much I need it.
Hang in there, self. 1.5 years to go. Allahumma yassir wa laa tu’assir.
