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Over-Stretched

March 15th, 2016 | Posted by Amy Boughner in #MommyScholar
See what I did there?

See what I did there?

So this whole ‘doing my Master’s while working an election campaign and working two other contracts, sometimes three right after my father died’ thing is a bit overwhelming. Add to the pile end of term assignments and a sick little girl and that changes to really fucking hard.

I knew when I started this journey almost two years ago that it wouldn’t be easy, probably in the best of times. Now nearing the end of it all I am rapidly approaching my breaking point.

In fact, today might have been my breaking point. Something that might have been a panic attack after my six year old was sent for a chest x-ray, which was then followed by a minor car accident led to me becoming a weeping mess for a little while tonight.

It’s not just the school work. It’s not just weekly discussions of scheduling to make sure the kid is taken care of at all times. It’s not just that she always seems to be unable to go to school when my husband is also unable to stay home from work. And today when I was literally on my way to class when things went sideways.

I have been letting things pile up on top of me. Letting myself eat my feelings and spend time just sitting when I could have gone for a walk and improved my mood. I have been making mistakes that I know are mistakes. Compounding my problems instead of taking them one at a time.

And I see myself doing it.

And I wonder if I’m asking too much of myself to create changes while everything else is going on or if that’s just another excuse. Because if I was making those changes wouldn’t it all feel easier.

But all the time spent thinking is such a waste. If I could just do.

People tell me I’m brave, I’m strong, they’re proud of me or amazed by what I’m doing. I don’t feel brave or strong. I will feel proud, I think, when I’m done. Even though I know that I’m doing well. I’m succeeding.

Frankly I’m kicking a little bit of ass.

I know that I’m good at what I do. I’m afraid that I will never get the opportunity to really demonstrate that. I’m worried that, despite all evidence, I don’t have what it takes.

Sure, I could remind myself of all the things that I’ve faced down in the past. Including myself. Sure, I could decide to just believe in myself and my abilities. Sure, I could look at all the women that I know are great who also struggled to admit that about themselves.

Maybe soon I will.

 

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