I am not OK.

I am not OK.
Warning- this is not a blog about loss~ it actually may mention my living kids and I don't want that to be a trigger for some, but my writing is my therapy. I come here to "throw up" if you will what is making me sick. It began in diaries when I was younger, then letters to my Grandpa Jonasen, my journals of letters to Andrew, and now (sometimes) on this blog.

I am a busy person. I am blessed to have four healthy, beautiful, amazing children at home. I have a husband who recently got a new job and is back in school to help children with visual impairments. I have A LOT of animals (dog, tortoise, bearded dragon, birds, fish). I run 100 miles a month. I teach second graders (27 of them this year). I regularly have a book (two) that I'm reading on my kindle (or listening to as I walk my dog). I don't want to sound ungrateful or that I don't appreciate what I have. I absolutely do and I thank God for it regularly.

I feel though like I am in a constant state of motion- I'm on a hamster wheel and I can't get off. Not only can I not get off, parts of me are flying off that wheel and I can't get them back.

I am not OK.

Today it fell apart- I fell apart. Quite literally. I fell into the arms of my dad (there to get my youngest son on the bus before work) and I started to cry.

There was a catalyst to all of this, so let me back-track. Managing where everyone has to be and who has to get them there is tough. I literally have alarms on my phone to pick people up because I HAVE forgotten. My job yesterday was to drive 40 minutes after work to see my oldest son run a XC meet- then take him home immediately so he could take a five minute shower, change into a tux and get back up to school for a band concert.
My husband's job was to pick up our middle son from his musical rehearsal at school and take him right to soccer practice.
We had someone to take our daughter to practice (and told her to work out a ride home) and someone to bring home our middle son (so we could both attend the concert). We had our youngest son miss his practice because... well... no carpool.
(This is the START of my "not OK" typical life.)

But then it gets worse. I had a missed call from my friend who was bringing my middle son home. I called her back but it went to voicemail and there was no message so I decided it may have been a "butt dial" (that happens to me all the time).

Plans changed and my daughter (who I'm convinced must like some boy in the band) REALLY wanted to go to the concert so my husband ended up picking her up and was going to come to the concert, sneak in the balcony and catch most of the show.

While walking into the school (where I get horrible reception anyway), a call from an unknown number came in. I didn't answer it (because I figured they would leave a message). They didn't. But I also get AWFUL reception in the high school.

Now is where I'm going to try to make that catalyst go a little faster.

My middle son's practice was cancelled- but we didn't know.
There were some high schoolers there (freshman probably- no drivers) who sometimes practice with my 12 year old's team and so one loaned him a phone to call me (missed call I didn't recognize). The boys ended up practicing themselves and when the older boys got picked up, my son ran (down a main road at dusk) to where our daughter was practicing. My husband and daughter were walking to the car as he ran up. They almost missed him.

And when that settled in.
What could have happened.
I. Was. Not. OK.

I blame no one in this- accidents happen. I didn't get the message and the coach felt awful (there was a problem with one of those awful new sports apps- where it wasn't sent to me), my friend assumed I would have gotten the message (why wouldn't I), and I assumed that missed call was a wrong number (why not?).

But when I saw and digested that, the "what 'could' have happened"- my little not yet 80 lbs 12 year old who probably looks 8 running down the road of a busy street- I felt (and still feel) sick.

He was sleeping soundly in his bed as I laced up my shoes to hit the treadmill this morning. I ran one mile and just stopped (this by the way is my ONLY me time of the day- my therapy) and I couldn't do it. I couldn't run. I was NOT OK.

I think that there is this version of me out there that people have painted and I feel badly that it's happened. I am someone who does a lot. I feel badly if I don't volunteer because I work in a job where volunteers save ME. I feel badly when I have to ask others for help. I feel bad when I'm not invited because I'm busy. I feel bad when I say no~ so I often say yes when what I need is to just SIT and breathe.

So while people think that I have got my shit together, I'm here to shout from the rooftops that I do not!! This incident with my middle son was at the top of the mountain and as it started rolling down it picked up all that other stuff that needs to be done that I am not doing... my microwave is broken, my freezer is broken, my under-mounted sink is starting to drop, there's settling nail pops in my house that are driving me nuts, I need to paint my front hallway, I need to call the stupid company where I ordered a front door in MAY who JUST installed it last week (after countless calls from me) and I was told I would get some compensation from. And I'm just remembering that I haven't yet picked up meds for my son (I called them in... but nope, I forgot to get them too). I need to take my dog to the vet and if my stupid bearded dragon doesn't poop soon I'm going to LOSE MY MIND!! And don't get me started with school- I'm behind. I'm always feeling like I need more time but I know play is soooo important so I give my kids a break because- well everyone needs a break- even me!!

Ah. The big vomit.
So no. I am not a super-mom-teacher-wife-friend-human.
I am a brilliant actress.
The cat is out of the bag.

I am not OK.

And oh- my house is a mess!
And no... someone asked I don't do it all. I am a TERRIBLE cook and gardener (though I've tried).
Ah- the big vomit.
Time to go brush my teeth.