Let me start by saying one thing:

My husband has been annoying the crap out of me.

There. I said it. I love him to pieces, but he is going to drive me insane in the not too distant future. I suppose my annoyance with him is just an extension of my frustration in all the other areas of my life. It has seemed for the last several weeks that I can't quite get my head above the water line, like there is some invisible force just below the surface sucking me under whenever I let my guard down. My response, of course, is to never relax, because when I do, everything falls apart around me.

Is.aac feels the tension, no doubt. He has been clingy, which in turn has made me feel like I need to pull away. The more he clings. the more I run. He's always been more of the touchy feely type than I am, so that in itself isn't really a surprise. Usually, we can come to a sort of middle ground which gives him the touch he needs while still giving me a bit a space. But now it is all I can do to sit next to him on the couch. I am angry at him for nothing. For everything. Intensely angry. I've been snappy and easily upset over the stupid regular things he does. (Seriously, our latest argument was over him turning off the television and boy was I upset--I know, it doesn't make sense.) I know I am being irrational. I know I am being a royal bitch. But I can't seem to break the pattern. The sad part is that hurting him has actually satisfied me. So ugly and sick. I know. It makes me feel so guilty.

Work has been a challenge, which has thrown me for a loop. That was always one place where I knew what I was doing, even on the most hectic of days. I have been frustrated because of various things, but I never really let what happened there get to me so deeply that I have felt like this. I am overwhelmed, and it is freaking me out. If you knew me in real life, you'd know just how huge it is to hear me utter those words. I don't get overwhelmed there. I just don't. Until now.

The boys just finished their EI evaluations, which always makes me question myself and my skills as a mother. Every time I was asked a question about the boys that I couldn't answer (even the odd, off the wall type) I felt my confidence fade more. I can justify that "normal" people don't have to analyze the way their children chew food, but damn it, I should know that answer. I should know if my child explores new textures, and how many new textures he tries a day. I don't. I don't want to really, because it would be nice if I could just enjoy my kids without having to worry about such nonsense. But I should know, and I don't. I should be able to be their mother and not their fucking drill sergeant. No, sit up Sh.awn. You can reach for that. You don't need my help, you can do it. I'm sorry, Baby, I know you don't like this, but we have to do this one more time. Ja.son, put the peg in the pegboard. Please put the peg in the pegboard. Fine, draw a line just like mommy's. Grab my fingers and let's practice walking one more time. Our games are filled with shit that EI expects them to do. It is just so exhausting. My confidence as a mother has always been rocky, but it plummets at times like these.

Don't even get me started on trying to add to our family. There's nothing like having your body go out of its way to fail at something so many others do easily to make a girl feel good about herself. Maybe that is just me?

I hate this about myself. This new edge I've adopted has made me into a person I don't particularly care for.

I am a fairly private person. Sure, I'll tell you pretty much whatever you want to know on the surface, but I hold my emotions in check a good portion of the time. It is hard for me to expose myself--to let others know some of the dark feelings I have, but I need to try and change that. Maybe writing these emotions out will be the nudge I need to start to turn things around? I hope so at least.