Im tired of everything going wrong

 Today, I just want to scream.


It’s been a week of trying to mow the damn grass — one simple thing — and even that doesn’t work out. The mower broke last week mid-mow, and today, it quit again. I swear, nothing ever seems to go right. Every time I try to cross something off the list, life throws another wrench in. It’s like I can’t even do something as basic as mowing the lawn without everything falling apart.


And the truth is… it’s not just about the grass. That’s just the tip of the iceberg.


I’m overwhelmed. Drowning, really. The house is a mess. The laundry’s never-ending. The grass looks like a jungle. The kids need me constantly. The business pulls me in a hundred directions. I’m tired. I’m frustrated. And what makes it worse is — I don’t feel appreciated. I give and give and hold everything together, and it’s like no one even sees how much I’m doing just to keep the wheels from falling off.


Sometimes I just want to break something. I want to shatter a plate or slam a door just to feel something loud enough to match the chaos in my head. But the mower’s already broken, so there goes that option.


And what really stings today… is this sinking realization: I’m living in his world. The house he picked. In the town he chose. Surrounded by his friends and his family. I gave up my own — even though they were toxic and narcissistic, they were mine. And now I’m stuck in a place that doesn’t feel like home, in a marriage that doesn’t always feel safe or connected or even real some days.


I’m starting to feel resentment pile up like bricks. One by one — for all the choices I didn’t really get to make. For all the silences I’ve swallowed. For the way I’m bending myself to fit into a life that doesn’t feel like it belongs to me.


And yeah, I know I’m staying “for the kids.” Because I don’t want them to grow up in a broken home. But on days like today, I wonder… is this really the better option? A home where their mom feels invisible and tired and quietly falling apart?


I don’t have answers right now. I just needed to let this out before it eats me alive.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

THREE MONTHS

  Three months. That’s all it took to go from forever to I don’t know, from rings on fingers to distance in doorways, from “we’ll try for five months” to him saying he’d never stop fighting for us. He said I was the only one, that someday I’d see how true his love was— words that felt like anchors when everything else was drifting. But two weeks later he’s living with someone else, letting our kids sleep with a stranger at the house, calling her girlfriend like the promises he made me were nothing but dust he wiped off his hands. And I’m left here asking— how long? How long was this building behind my back? How long was he lying about fighting for us, about caring for me, about anything at all? Because the man I knew wouldn’t fall that fast, move that fast, introduce someone new to our children that fast. This version of him proves one thing— not that I’m unlovable, but that he’s been gone longer than I realized. And maybe that’s th...
Read more

Smiling through it

 Some days, I feel like a light switch. The moment I walk into the salon, I flip “on.” Smiling, upbeat, fully present. I listen closely. I care deeply. I lift spirits. I make people feel beautiful, heard, and whole—even when I don’t feel that way myself. Being a hairstylist is more than just hair. It’s therapy with a blowout. It’s pep talks while trimming dead ends. It’s carrying pieces of other people’s lives in my hands while holding scissors in the other. And while I love what I do and the way I get to connect with people, I won’t lie—some days, it’s emotionally exhausting. Because while I’m pouring into others, I don’t always have the chance to refill myself. It’s a strange kind of loneliness—being surrounded by people all day, yet feeling like no one really asks me how I’m doing. I’m expected to be the one who makes everyone else okay. And I do. But sometimes, I go home completely drained, like I gave away all my energy and forgot to keep a little for myself. But I’m learning ...
Read more

How Did We Get Here?

  How did we even get here? We were civil… we were fine. He was telling me he missed me, that he would keep fighting for us. He was calling me beautiful and sending me sunrise pictures just to make me smile. And then five days later he’s introducing our kids to his new girlfriend? Five days. How am I supposed to make sense of that? It feels like yet another lie—another thing he said just to keep me close, to keep me soft, to keep me from moving on. And the part that hurts the most is how quickly he moved her into his life… and into our kids’ lives. He started living with her right after telling me he missed me. How am I supposed to wrap my head around that? How does someone switch lanes that fast unless they were already halfway gone? And then there’s the forgiveness piece. I know I made mistakes. I own my part. But he now says he can’t forgive mine—while all the things he did first, all the lies, all the hurtful words, all the ways he broke trust… I was just expected to forgiv...
Read more