"I Can Do It With a Broken Heart" - Taylor Swift

I have cried on the way home from daycare drop-off every day this week.

I have been feeling torn between two worlds. I wish I could split myself in two and do everything I want to do. The most ironic thing is I know if I could do that, then I'd probably still be sitting here, wishing I could split myself into three. I know it'd never be enough.

I need. I need, I need, I need. I need to be able to focus at work. I need to be able to be the best mom I can be. I need to be a better wife. I need to be a better friend. I need to be a better daughter. I need to be a better sister. I need to go grocery shopping. I need to do laundry. I need to finish this project at work. I need to figure out what's for dinner. I need to have the energy at the end of the day to take these kids outside and be present with them. I need to be grateful. I need to be appreciative of the life I have. I need to learn to say no. I need to keep saying yes. I need to find time to spend on myself. I need to keep things organized. I need to sleep more. I need to keep all plates spinning. I need to schedule vet appointments. I need to keep my shit together on hard mornings. I need to stay calm during hard evenings. I need to be a place of peace. I need to feel my feelings. I need to feel my feelings and still maintain that peace, even when they contradict. I need to ride out my internal storm and not tarnish the landscape around me. I need to potty train LJ. I need to get RB into speech therapy. I need to figure out soccer in the spring. I need to schedule dentist appointments. I need to focus more on their education. I need to attend personal meetings, be fully present, be a memory bank. I need to work on my posture. I need to get a haircut. I need to get the boys haircuts. I need to order Halloween costumes. I need to figure out Halloween plans. I need to make Christmas lists. I need to figure out RB's birthday party next month. I need to renew my tags on my car. I need to switch out the car seats. I need to stay present. I need to make sure we keep walking forward, toward the future. I need to stay out of the past. I need to be more selfless. I need to be more selfish. I need to be kinder, more patient. I need to eat lunch. I need.

I need a fucking break.

I need to stop needing a fucking break.

I need to stop needing.

If I write the word need enough, my eyes stop recognizing it. Funny.

Here's what I think the crux of it really is, and it feels so shitty to say out loud. I am tired of being in control, and yet completely out of control. I am tired of feeling like a supporting character in everyone's life around me, and I am tired of not feeling like the main character in my life. I feel like the director of some chaotic, fucked up play. I'm telling everyone where to stand, making sure costumes are pressed and ready, the lighting is just right, the soundtrack queued to play. I'm making sure the audience is comfortable, checking the temp of the room, reserved seats marked correctly. I'm the final reviewer, design consultant, logistics manager. Do we have the props we need? Are they in the right position? I'm watching for critics, trying to appease them before they utter any type of feedback. I'm cleaning the auditorium after every show, sweeping up popcorn, throwing away half-empty drinks. I'm making sure the food stand is stocked. Did we run out of snacks? Do we have something that appeals to all types of attendees? Is there enough room for everyone? What's our spillover plan? Making sure no one gets hurt, and having a plan for when it inevitably happens.

My life is shaped around the needs of everyone else around me.

I do not say that in any type of tone. In this season of my life, it is just a fact. It is not something I can change, not a ratio I can rebalance in a day's time. I am in charge. And I am at the whims of every decision made outside of my brain. There are things that are out of my control, people who truly depend on me. But who do I depend on? Who asks me what I need? Who takes care of my shit for me? And, if someone did even ask me what my needs are, would I even be able to articulate? Do I even know my own needs?

Do I know who I am if I'm not basing that on what everyone else around me needs?

I've been this way my whole life, for better or for worse. It is my greatest strength in many ways. I have an innate ability to recognize an opportunity for service, and I will push myself to the brink to perform that service. I care deeply about others and would throw myself on a grenade to lessen the suffering of others. Isn't it wild how that grenade then becomes my suffering? I miss no steps. I stay tired. I do not bow out of the game; I do not question the weight of what I pick up. I do not acknowledge the ache in my muscles. I do not give voice to how lost, untethered, I feel. I do not rest, not until everyone else is at peace. I do not wait for silence. I am the personification of an object in motion stays in motion. Sometimes I feel like a hummingbird. I can move forward, backward, up, down, left, right, but if I stop for too long, I truly fear I might never muster the energy to start again.

I need to be my own friend.

I need to remember, I, too, am a human.

I need to learn to slow down.

I need to accept I cannot do it all.

I need to recognize the signs of my own burnout.

I need to put my own mask on first.

My mask has evolved in the last few years. It started as a smile, rooted, powered by tenacity and a can-do attitude. It was lighter. Maybe less dense. Definitely easier to hold up.

Maybe it's just today, maybe it's this chapter of my life, maybe it's motherhood - but now, it slips more. Heavier. Harder to maintain. Denser than I remember. Less of me, more of everyone else. It's hard to remember if there ever was more of me. Was I ever a whole person? Or have I always been composed of pieces of everyone else? What would be left of me were I to stand on my own feet? Whose feet have I been standing on this whole time?

I call it a mask. Maybe that's not the right word - it's more a caricature. I mean, I do exist, right? And I have a personality, I have my own complex feelings, happy or sad. I have to keep this show moving, don't I? If I don't, I fear it might come to a halt. I put that pressure on myself, never daring to test that thesis. I feel resentful, but I'm not sure of what, or who. I feel heavy, even at my lightest.

I see the worry in my mom's eyes when I talk to her. She asks pointed questions, carefully. I answer them, carefully. I try to hide the tired in my eyes from her. She can see it. I know she can. I'm a mom now, too, and I know in my bones I will be able to read things on my children they will desperately want me to not see so long as I pay attention.

There's some manifestation of the weight I carry, or the weight I tell myself I carry. I have lost weight. People have noticed. I'm not entirely sure what to do with that yet. My skin is dry. The bags under my eyes look more like bruises some days. My hair is dull. RB took a picture of me the other night. I was happy. I couldn't post it, couldn't share it with anyone. All I could see was what people might question, might criticize. Someone I love very much asked me to stop losing so much weight the other day. That has played on a loop ever since. I eat. I really do. My body seems to need more fuel, but my stomach can only house so much. I told my best friend this morning I have cried every drop-off this week, then I sent a smiling emoji.

Even when I'm being honest, I'm marketing it.

I can't just say "I'm struggling." It's like the words can't pass my lips, a forcefield holding them in, they push back, the energy between the two creating pressure within me atop everything else. I can't say "this is hard" because it implies I can't handle it.

I handle it every day. Don't I?

Where do I go from here? My heart is open, maybe a bit calloused, but lighter than when I sat down to write this.

I need to let go of my need for control. I need to let it wash over me and off me all the same. I need to love myself just like I would anyone else sitting right where I am.

I've been told in my life I don't do enough. I've been told I have abandoned people at their lowest, that I have been selfish, that I could have given more. The more I think about those things, the more I realize those statements aren't about me. They're more about the person saying them. Quantifiably, on paper, I do a lot, and scientifically, I am still only one person. I need to release the hold those statements have on me, my teacher's pet tendencies, my need to show up and show out.

I need to be nicer to myself. I need to accept I have limitations, that I am not superhuman, that my body and mind will get tired, and that is not a sign of defeat. I need to remember I am deserving of love and kindness, and I need to give myself what I give everyone else.