Bad Week

I have been having a bad week.  Much of my time has been spent moving through the house breathing deeply and chanting, “this will pass.”  I’m exhausted and am feeling emotionally drained.  Imogen has been decidedly off and there have been a couple of nights where sleep has been non-existent.  My thighs, arms and breasts are bruised from her pinches and kicks.  The mottled green and brown skin would be good if I was trying for the role of Grendel’s mom- oh wait I am not Angelina Jolie.

Tuesday night, after hours of trying to put Imogen to sleep, I found myself sitting in the middle of the bed, trying to nurse and sobbing.  It didn’t help that at the end of the tears, I had a daughter sleeping in my arms.   I was too tired to see the humour.  This was followed up with last night’s mess of miscommunication between Ryan and I.

I went to Oakridge (never again) to buy a swim suit for myself.  I wanted something with full coverage.  If I could buy a 1920’s bathing suit that would be perfect.  I tried to explain to the salesperson that bikini waxes were a little difficult to do on a regular basis with a 7 month old and did they have something more like shorts.  I found out that I needed a ’specialty’ bathing suit because of my large chest.  When I explained that I did not want to spend much more than the $50 gift certificate as I was not planning on breast feeding forever and therefore would likely need to buy a new bathing suit in the near future, she looked at me as though I had asked her for her kidney.  If I thought that the trauma of having to see myself in a bathing suit would be bad enough, Imogen decided to turn it up a notch by deciding to go in a screaming fit while I was half dressed.  In the end, I left with nothing but the screaming child, and my self esteem trailing behind me.

There are half written posts that I have no energy to finish as I am trying to save it up to clean the house.  Laundry seems endless.  As soon as the basket is empty it is filled up again.  I finally put away the last of the stuff from Christmas.  I know that it seems ridiculous to worry about a clean house but I am uncomfortable when the house is messy.  I can’t relax until it is clean.

I think I am also lonely.  Visiting the school yesterday, was bittersweet.  The world has moved on without me.  I have not spoken to people that I thought were friends for months.  That hurts.  I want to say something to them but then question whether or not I am going to sound whiny.  Sort of like this post.  Maybe this will have done some good and released the poison.