A Day in my Life

As I put the laundry into the dryer and then put another load into the washer, I realize I still need to put up the leftovers from supper. The cat(the fat one that always wants food) meows loudly in protest as I put our food away. I smile down at him, "Ok, Macaroni, I'll feed you before bed." My daughter, Elizabeth, stands there waiting for me to come to bed. She has that thumb in her mouth again and her blanket/bear in her hands, and I've about given up hope of her ever stopping that thumb sucking. She is 10 years old and she'll be 11 in the Fall, and I swear she still acts like a 6-year-old sometimes. Hell, who am I kidding? That's most days. "I'm coming," I tell her as I finish feeding Macaroni and the other cats who decided to join in on the late-night snack. My life is chaotic, hectic, and I never get a moment to myself. I'm exhausted. I'm a single mom to a beautiful 10-year-old who just got diagnosed with autism, and a highly intelligent 17-year-old young man with ADHD. I keep two jobs just to make ends meet, and even that isn't enough sometimes. I've started back at college. I want to become a therapist someday, a crisis counselor. I should've done this long ago, and maybe I wouldn't be struggling so much right now. I can't lie because, for one, I'm not very good at it. My face tells the story. Life has not been an easy street for me. I don't have a savings account, I count pennies at the drive-through just to give my kid some lunch or to pay for gas for the car, and lying is not the only thing my face shows, it also shows the years. My children's father has never been very supportive, but we did love each other once upon a time. That feels like another lifetime now. Then, there was the toxic romance that about took everything from me. Now, I have tried to find love again, but it seems that the tank is empty. I'm happier and safer alone. Honestly, I don't have the energy for anyone else. My daughter needs me almost every second of the day and wants to know where I am down to the minute. I'm exhausted to the point my bones hurt. To the point, I cry. I keep pushing through each day by just saying, "Just do this one last thing and you can take a break," but the truth is? It never ends. I hope one day it does, but right now that day feels so far away. My beautiful baby girl, whom her father barely knows. She's so creative, smart, and she has such big dreams. I worry about her anxiety and social phobias. She is so extremely attached to me, and I am glad we are close, but I wish she felt comfortable enough with herself and the world around her to explore and figure out things for herself without having to hold my hand every step of the way. I'm angry to have to do this alone. I'm upset that I'm having to do this with no help from their father. He helps financially every once in a while. To be honest, what he gives me barely makes a dent in what it takes to raise these children. I'm doing it, though, and I'll do it again and again. Every damn day. Why? Because to me they are worth it. They are so worth it! And I am pissed that he doesn't feel the same! I'm pissed that I have to always be the strong one. I have to hold everything together because no one else will. The world is on my shoulders, and I feel every single bit of it. It is so heavy, and there is no one to help bear that weight at the end of the day. The sad thing is that I don't even trust anyone to help at this point because I feel like I'll owe them if they help. Everything comes at a price. Everyone wants something. Another little piece of me. I wonder as I lie watching my daughter sleep, my biggest fear and constant worry, "When will there be no more pieces of me left to give?"