It has been challenging to spread love in the time of screaming children. Entering 2016 was harder than leaving 2015. It was more difficult to say “Happy New Year” than exclaim “Merry Christmas”.
I am homesick.
I miss my beloved Cebu, the city I’ve lived and loved for so long. I miss the food, the people, and please forgive me if I say this, but I even miss the traffic.
Smack right in the cold winter season up here in Montana, I have been in and out of my manic-depressive state. While I am functional – I still cooked, changed children’s clothes, breastfed the baby – I have cocooned myself mostly in the room with very little interaction with Jeff. It was hard to tell him that I still love him when we can’t even have a quiet dinner because the baby is screaming or the twins are fighting for that one book despite the fact that they have a gazillion reading materials.
I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how much I appreciate all the things he did because I felt like a prisoner. I wrote in my diary: “This marriage clipped my wings. I can no longer fly.”
I spent most of my hours taking care of the baby, playing with the twins, and binge watching “CSI: New York”. In between all these, I cried.
I cried so hard.
Several times, I wished for my old life back. I cannot count the times I have tried to book myself a one-way flight to Cebu. I have entered my card details and was only a click away from buying that ticket and then… I hit ‘Cancel Transaction’.
I am so tired.
I am not used to a life without helpers.
There.
I finally admitted that truth after two years of pretending and telling people that I’m fine and I can be Supermom and take care of three rascals all by myself.
The reality is… I can’t.
I feel like there are so many things to do and they never end. Antoinette never runs out of blocks to spread on the floor. Nicholas never runs out of books to tear apart. JJ is always hungry so every two hours, I have to shove my nipple inside his big mouth to shut him up.
It’s very difficult.
Often times, I only eat one full meal in a day. I used to spend more than 30 minutes in the bathroom but that has been narrowed down to five to 10 minutes because when I’m under that warm shower, I still hear the baby cry even when he’s not actually crying.
I have spent very little time with Jeff. We still do random date nights although they have been mostly relegated to movie nights care of Netflix. But even that has been invaded by screaming, hyperactive children who still want a piece of me at 9:00 p.m.
I sound tired because I really am tired.
I’m beyond exhausted.
I wished my Mom was here. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do.
Then I remind myself that I have left my former home to build a home and a family of my own so I better stop being a cry baby who whines for Mommy and think about what she can do.
Everything looked bleak and then…there was Jeff. My husband and I are very open to each other. But in my depressed state, I felt like he never listened to me. I felt like he was only hearing what I shared but never really cared. For the first time in our marriage, we screamed at each other.
We never do that.
It never happened.
He was getting frustrated with me; I was feeling neglected.
It’s true.
There’s always a first time for everything.
We did not sleep in the same room that night. I was crying and made the pillow as my companion. He was on the couch with a blanket to keep him warm. At 2:00 a.m., he entered the room and apologized. He said: “I’m sorry I raised my voice. It was wrong of me to do that. I love you Cris.”
I didn’t answer.
I wasn’t hurt.
I was angry.
Very angry.
I prayed until sunrise asking God to take away my anger and to help me deal with my depression. “I’m so tired of being lonely. I don’t want to be angry. I want to stop being sorry for myself. I’d like to be a better wife and mother.”
I fell asleep praying.
I woke up with a headache.
I was thinking even when I was asleep.
Then it hit me.
The only reason why I felt like I wasn’t being a good wife and mother was because I didn’t truly consider myself as a wife and as a mother. I still lived in that bubble thinking that one day, I will walk out of this home, go cliff diving without thinking about who I left behind.
But the truth of the matter is… I can’t do that anymore.
I cannot be reckless anymore. I have four people to think of. I have a home to manage. Realizing that was – WOW – really overwhelming. And as you might have imagined, I cried.
Again.
Then there was Jeff standing by the door. With that classic look in his eyes telling me it’s going to be okay even when I don’t believe at first glance that it’s going to be okay. But I cling to his words because he’s the man I love; the man I chose to be with; the man I promised to live my life for better or for worse.
It was that one morning when I told him the deepest desires, hurts, and calls of my heart. I was surprised, for I thought I have told him everything. We discussed everything and Jeff told me: “We’re going to do something about this okay?”
I nodded.
Still confused and unsure but I felt secured.
That was more than enough.
I’m not painting a rosy picture of my immigrant, wife-of-a-foreigner, stay-at-home-mom life because I would like people to know that women like me who appear to be strong and successful are still susceptible to these kinds of situations – and we can’t solve everything by ourselves.
If this was 2011 and you asked me if I knew the solution to this issue, I will be my usual confident self and give you a generic litany consisting of empowered woman lines such as “believe in yourself” and “the best is yet to come”.
But not this year.
For years, I have developed the mindset that I can do this alone because that was how it was. I was, for the most part, alone. So sometimes, I forget I’m married to a wonderful creature who is really willing to listen and solve issues with me.
Love in the time of screaming children is a strange kind of love. There are several variables to consider, several factors that come into play, several reasons that will tell you to give up and walk away.
But there is still love nevertheless. Take away the screaming and the whining, and there is still that love. That imperfect kind of love.
But it is that love that binds me to Jeff.
I’m holding on to that love.
Screaming children withstanding.
