I am almost always ready for anything. I adapt quickly, I learn fast, I roll with the punches, I make the best out of every situation, and I can have fun doing almost anything. The downside to that, however, is as severe as Kryptonite is to Superman: when I’m out, I’m really really OUT.
One of the biggest benefits of having a partner, especially when children are involved, is being able to “tag out” of something when the situation becomes too complicated or poorly-matched to your strong suits. And I don’t mean partner as in “spouse”. I mean any kind of person who is regularly around, chooses to be a part of your life, intermingles their life with yours, and takes an active interest in the well being and happiness of you and those that you care about.
Yesterday I had about fifteen hours worth of pounding, eye aching, skull splitting, ear drum shattering, headache. Drugs helped but only in doses that bordered on affecting my ability to care for my child. With no place to go, no one to help, I had no other option but to simply do the best I can.
My daughter, both brilliantly and sadly, has learned the signs. She proclaimed, “Daddy’s just a little bit frustrated.” Usually, that’s enough to knock me over, get me smiling, and make me realize that nothing — NOTHING — is as important as enjoying life and enjoying my time with my precious daughter. But, when it’s a headache that is at the root of so much frustration, I simply can’t push it back far enough to forget about it.
Yesterday was terrible. I actually yelled at my poor, precious, innocent little girl twice. She was guilty of nothing except wanting someone to play with. About 15-20 minutes after I dared take another dose of drugs she would announce, “Daddy’s not frustrated anymore!”, simultaneously telling the truth exactly as it is and making me feel like the most terrible father on the planet.
In the end, it just makes me sad. It makes me sad that I get this way and can’t seem to find any reliable relief. It makes me sad that my daughter has to be in the middle of it. It makes me sad that society has become so insistent on self-reliance that networks of support are not built in, people are either too afraid or too busy to offer help, and we’re too proud to ask for it and wouldn’t even know who to ask if we weren’t. It makes me sad that the one safety net our society provides for this — marriage — has been ripped out from underneath me.
I think the saddest thing of all is that I’ve actually considered — and, thankfully, pushed away the idea — trying to teach my daughter how to accept isolation and lack of social connection even when I’m healthy so that she can better handle it when I’m not.
I’m sorry, baby girl, for being such a grump yesterday. I know you will forgive me, because you already have. Because even at your age — especially at your age — you know that everyone makes mistakes and that holding those things against someone serves no purpose. I hope you never forget that. I am working as hard as I can to be less frustrated and less often and to find ways around these difficult situations that, once in them, are out of my control.