It would happen that we experienced "The exorcist of the Midge" last night.
It was just par for the course of my heart's emotions in the last week.
Already on the brink of giving in to my desire to crawl in bed and stare at the wall for hours,
this was the last straw.
He's two weeks shy of being two and it's like someone flipped a switch.
I was close to putting up a missing persons ad:
Loving nearly-two year old missing. Replaced with Chucky-esque monstrosity. If cute blonde baby is found, please return him to his parents. Mother on verge jumping in car and driving off the coast.
I wanted to make myself laugh at the very thing that was catapulting me into the thought-pit of failure.
I know "terrible-two's" is a phrase for a reason but I had NO idea that it could be like this.
We went to put Midge in bed last night that and that was all it took...
Out came a convulsing, screaming, body throwing maniac and I went right into:
He learned this at school! He's not going back!
If I were a stay at home mom, this wouldn't happen.
If I played with him more, he'd still be OK.
This is about ME!
There was no talking me off the ledge, I was broken.
My heart was on the floor and I was in a puddle of "I can't do this. I am not made for this."
Along with all the other inadequacies I have been feeling lately, I just couldn't stomach this.
It made me feel like my mom was right--I shouldn't have more kids.
It made me feel like maybe we should just move to Oregon and my dad can help us.
It made me want to give in to all of my bad thoughts and just surrender.
And still--I want to cry.
Even though I've now been told I'm not alone.
I still, very deeply, feel the weight of the thoughts of others who are on the outside looking in and feeling like
"They're all right. I am failing by working. I would be failing to add another child to our family. I have just FAILED."
And it's dark inside my heart right now.
It's dark and lonely and while I fight the anxiety, the panic, the depression
I fight it alone and with the desperate desire to be OK.
I fight it with prayer, even though my heart feels like it's shut off and unable to feel it and the words feel forced and the love feels absent.
God, I'm trying!
Missing: mother's sanity.
If found, please return!