Asking for help

The past two weeks have been hard. The part time single mom thing has really pushed me further than I thought possible. I’ve been drowning. Not treading water, drowning. So I had to admit that I can’t do it. I can’t be the primary parent while working a full-time job and still retain my sanity. And I didn’t know how to ask for help. I’ve never been good at admitting that I can’t do something. I’ve never been good at failing. Usually I walk away as soon as things become hard, I rather give up than fail. But failing isn’t an option.

So I started spiraling into a very scary place, full of anxiety and fear. It was the Husbeast that took control and made the doctors appointment. He went with me as I had to explain to a complete stranger that I was not coping, something that I hadn’t even been able to admit to myself. My wonderful GP took the time to listen to me and prescribed a short course of medication. He will only extend my prescription if I attend counseling sessions with a psychologist. For the first time since October last year, I was being heard.

I’ve attended 2 therapy sessions. It is honestly the scariest thing I’ve ever done. Telling someone the pure unvarnished truth. No hiding, no sugar coating. Just naked, painfully scary honesty.

And I don’t know how I’m going to do any of it.