Single Parent Hell

I have to make a confession. Until this week, I really did not understand what it meant to single parent three children.  Last weekend I was set to go out of town and cancelled. I worked, instead, and by Saturday afternoon I knew I was too tired to do ANYTHING. The kids were all gone. I rented movies, went to the grocery store and by four o’clock, I was in bed. With the exception of a foray to go to Church Sunday morning, I didn’t leave that spot. I was exhausted.

There has been a horrendous bug going through my household – the oldest has pneumonia as a result.  The youngest daughter is, well, so tired she’s in tears all the time. My son is pretty much normal, but has circles under his eyes.

Me? I’m still exhausted, but I’m improving. Mentally, though…I’m having a tough time.  I would never take the ex back. Let me make that clear. Looking back I can see that it was a bad marriage and not being in that has given me room to fly in all sorts of ways. But some days there isn’t enough of me to go around. Most days I carry tremendous amounts of guilt around with me.

I’m angry. There is only me.  The ex lives in another city. The former in-laws are estranged and physically disabled at any rate. My parents live two hours away. There is no one to help. My friends are all married and therefore busy with their own lives and completely ignorant of how desperate it can feel to do this alone. (I say that without any anger toward them – I lived in that same place for years.) Even if I explained it to my friends they would not understand.

Eighteen-hour days are not my thing. I need down time. I’m never going to get it. Literally. Not till my children are grown. Whether it’s hockey or band or errands for school or desires or needs or school projects or schoolwork or WHATEVER…I’m it. AND I’M TIRED.  I’m doing it all by myself. One night this week I worked until six, made dinner, ran my son to Hockey, figured out my schedule for the next two weeks (for work) during the game, came home two hours later, threw my oldest in the car and took her to the doctor at ten to nine at night.

This is typically how it goes. It brings me to tears. There is no one to help. I feel alone.

Someone said something about Mr. Boyfriend. Asked me if he would help. I suppose he would, but it’s not his responsibility. I don’t ask. I don’t even talk to him about any of this. I don’t expect him to kick in for my kids when he has his own. I can’t imagine what it would take for someone else to move in and love my children like they were their own.
I just can’t see it. I have teenagers. I have one, in particular, who can out-swear ME. Not to mention the fact that it would require me to give up some autonomy and co-parent again and I am not sure I can do THAT again. It didn’t go so well last time.  I feel trapped. I either need to let someone in or drown.  Neither choice appeals to me.