Since this month started, I had to remind myself of something very real. I am not broke. I am in an expensive season of my life. However, let me not sugarcoat this shit like it is some cute little financial lesson wrapped in a bow. I am mentally and emotionally drained.
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I am tired in a way sleep does not fix. I am carrying responsibilities all damn day. Then when I turn around, I am still not feeling freed up when my kids finally go to bed at night. By the time the apartment gets quiet, my mind is still loud as hell. I am still sitting there trying to figure out how the fuck I am going to make everything work.
That is where I am right now.
As many people know or have heard back-to-school
season alone can tear a budget up. School clothes, uniforms, supplies,
transportation, food, fees, and all the little extra things that does not feel
small once it starts adding up. Then real life keeps moving. It is moving as if
it has no idea I am already maxed out. Rent is still due. The car note is paid.
Insurance, utilities, and internet is paid. Now I am focused on getting more groceries,
gas, haircuts, and everything else handled towards the end of this month.
Oh, and I am paying $126 every single week for
extended care for my daughter on a TA salary. Let that sit for a second. Every
week. Not once a month. Not every now and then. Every damn week. That money
comes out whether I am tired, stressed, broke down, or barely holding it
together. Of course, I still must make sure my son gets his haircuts too. It is
me making sure my kids have what they need. It is me making sure I show up to
work, and still somehow make sure I look put together like I am not quietly
trying to figure this shit out in silence.
My credit cards are maxed out. I am not proud of that.
However, I am damn sure not about to lie and act like everything is fine
either. Sometimes survival costs more than people understand. Sometimes you
swipe because your kids need something. Dinner must be figured out. Gas must go
in the car. Then the week must be stretched past what your paycheck can cover. Then
once it stacks up, it feels as if you are digging with a disposable spoon that
is bending while life keeps throwing more dirt in the hole. Then has the nerve
to ask why you are tired.
What makes it heavier is knowing I am doing so much of
this without the help that should already be there.
The dad is not helping at all. He has gone
unresponsive to the needs of our kids. I am done dressing that up to make it
sound nicer than it is. When children have needs, silence does not help.
Disappearing is not support. Leaving one parent to figure out every damn thing
alone is not co-parenting. It is abandonment with a different name. I am tired
of pretending that shit is okay.
And let me be very clear on this too, he better not
pop up at their schools looking to sign neither one of them out after being
unresponsive when they actually needed him. You do not get to ignore the
responsibility and then show your ass up trying to play parent like nothing
happened. Not with me. Not with my children. Not after I have been the one
carrying the weight, answering the calls, paying the bills, making the plans, losing
sleep, and showing up every single damn day.
The hard part is I still have to find it in me to
smile. I still have to walk into work like I am not overwhelmed. I still have
to be professional, patient, kind, and present. I still must be mama. I still must
be the safe place. I still have to cook, clean, prepare, plan, answer buku
questions, handle attitudes, and love on my two kids even when I feel like I
have nothing left in me.
That is the part people do not always see. They see
the smile. They see me getting up and handling business. They see me looking
put together. They do not see the mental math. The quiet tears. The late-night
worry. The prayers in the car. They also do not see how I am figuring this shit
out in silence because I do not have the luxury of falling apart.
I am still working. I am still taking care of my
children. I
am still paying what I can pay.
I
am still showing up even when I am tired as hell.
Somehow, by the grace of God, I am still moving forward.
I can admit that I have areas to improve financially
while also acknowledging that I am carrying a lot. Both can be true. I can be
tired and still responsible. I can be overwhelmed and still a good mama. I can
be financially stretched and still not be a failure. This is not me making
excuses. This is me telling the truth.
In my Fantasia singing voice, truth is, I do not get
many breaks. Even when the kids are asleep, I am still planning for tomorrow.
What needs to be washed? What needs to be packed? Who needs something signed?
What bill is coming out? What can wait? What damn sho’ cannot wait? How much
gas is in the car? When can I get my son to the barbershop? Do I have enough
energy to do my own hair, pick out clothes, and still make myself look like I
am not about to lose it?
This is the kind of tiredness that does not come from
one bad day. It comes from constantly having to be the backup plan. It comes
from always being the emergency contact, the provider, the nurturer, the
disciplinarian, the scheduler, the driver, and the one who must make it work no
matter what.
I also know God has not brought me this far to leave
me here.
All I can do is trust God to see me through all of
this. Honestly, it is beyond my worries now. I can worry all night and still
wake up with the same responsibilities. I can stress myself into a headache and
still have to show up the next morning. So, at some point, I have to put it in
God’s hands and keep doing my part.
That does not mean I am not frustrated. I am. That
does not mean I am not angry. I am. That does not mean I am not tired of being
the one who must keep figuring it out. I am. However, even in that, I refuse to
let this season break me or make me forget who I am.
I am not weak because I am tired.
I am not failing because money is tight.
I am not less of a mama because I am exhausted.
I am human. I am a mother. I am doing the best I can
with what I have. Even on the days I feel like I am one bill, one phone call,
or one more problem away from losing my shit, I am still doing a damn good job.
If you are reading this while trying to stretch your
paycheck, pay for childcare, cover school expenses, buy groceries, keep bills
current, stay sane, and still smile in people’s faces like your life is not
heavy, I see you. This life is not for the weak.
Sometimes progress looks like making it to Friday. Sometimes progress
looks like the kids being fed, washed, cared for, and safe. Sometimes progress
looks like paying one bill and praying about the next one. Sometimes progress
looks like getting up, putting yourself together, and walking out the door with
a smile when you know good and well you had to fight your way through the
morning.
Sometimes progress looks like trusting God while you
are still tired, still pissed off, still stretched thin, and still trying to
figure out what the hell comes next.
I do not know exactly how everything is going to work
out.
I do not know when this season is going to ease up for
me at all.
I do not know how many more times I am going to have
to rearrange, sacrifice, and stretch myself.
However, I do know this, I am not giving up. I may be
tired. I may be frustrated. I may be mad as hell. I may not have all the
answers right now, but I am still standing. My kids are watching me survive a
season that tried to break me. One day they will know their mama did not fold.
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