NORMALCY

You can only for so long look back at the accomplishments before the road ahead looks harder than it really seems. We have reached 5 months this weekend since John’s deployment began. In front of everyone, I rejoice in the accomplishment of getting this far, but in private, I am devastated at the road ahead that still seems so long and lonely.

My days begin with a daily struggle with all of my children, get out of bed, get ready for school, pack your backpack, head to the bus, not one thing is done in a timely manner and I struggle with the need to scream yet try and stay calm so my day starts off on the right foot.

My days end with a nightly struggle with all of my children, unpack your backpack, work on homework, get ready for dinner, play quietly, get ready for bed, go to bed, stay in bed.

This has gone on for months and the frustration for one day to be perfect has been increasing and my stress has gone to a point where I don't know how much longer I might be able to endure this type of daily routine.

I strive for routine, it is needed in a home with an ADHD child and an Asperger's child, but my attempts are ignored and the energy level is sinking.

No matter what, in public, the smile is on my face and no one will ever know the truth behind it. The anger of disrespect, the sadness of loneliness and the exhaustion of the day in and day out.
How do you explain to someone that after 5 months, nothing has changed and the control of a life you thought you had is just a dream?

I fear for my husband's life every day, a feeling that can be so overwhelming that the intense emotions overcome you and you just don't know how to move or breathe.

I just want my life to have some sort of resemblence of what it once was. I want to be the mom I was before this adventure began. I want to know my children still love me even though my stress is sometimes taken out on them in a screaming match. I want to know that my job will be okay if I just need to take a day or two to come to grips.

The silence in the house is too much to bear, I need conversation past bunnies and Bakugon, I need touch, more than the peck on the cheek from a five year old and a hug in the passing of an eight year old who doesn't want his friends to see.

I need normalcy, something that won't be there for another eight months.