Friday, March 15, 2019

Sometimes, More than a Vacation Sounds Wonderful

We get our taxes done the moment we have everything we need together. So that means we are some of the few that have them done by the beginning of February. We don't do them ourselves. We have a guy. He's done them since we were married. He'll probably still do them until he retires.

This year, we came in with all babies in tow. All. 4. Babies. To the tax office. "How we do it with 4?" I have no idea. I just shrug my shoulders. Lately, I feel we are lucky we survive every day.

He had said he does the taxes for a lady of 5 kids who had just up and left. Left her family, left her kids. Went to Mexico for 2 years. No one knows what she did there or why she went where she did.

I can't help but ask, how. How can a person do that? How can a person leave their kids?
Their husband.
Their life.
Leave everything behind.
Just like that.

I don't ask out of incredulity.
I ask out of curiosity.

How much did that person endure day to day to just up and leave?
What was her breaking point?

I look around my bedroom from my laying position on the bed. The baby is sleeping *finally* and I  need a glass of water. But I  don't want to get out of bed and get one because that means I'll need to interact with the family people. I don't want to have to deal with the people.
The Questions. The Demanded answers.
More questions.
Words. Words. Words. Words.

So instead I look at the mess splayed out before me in the room we call a bedroom. It's a trash heap. Junk and tools and supplies which just sit there waiting to be used. Piled high. Because there is so much.

And I think...

When will it be my breaking point?

I picture that woman sitting on a beach. Not having to deal with the people. The questions. The words. The mess. Just Quiet.
Maybe there are other people around her. But none of the demands of everyday motherhood. Everyday marriage. The unspoken disappointment of unmet expectations. It sounds amazing. Serene, almost.

Was she missed?

What happened to the dishes and the laundry and the cleaning and the school work and all the things the mom, the wife, the woman does every day. Did they get done in a timely manner? Did she care? Did they wonder when she would return so the dishes would be cleaned, so the clothes would be folded and put away? Or was she missed for the hugs and the kisses and the spoken 'I love you's?

Did they realize how much she actually did?

So many days, the appeal of leaving is strong. The days of a wife and mother are long, never-ending. And the exhaustion which accompanies those long days is understandable. It is harder when you feel discouraged, lost, alone, unappreciated. Defeated. Why would anyone stay to continue through the long exhausting days where no one cares and they just expect you to continue on.

When does perseverance turn into self-destruction?

How do you persevere and not spiral downward into destruction? 

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