Five years of chronic painful stress (and counting!)

 I remember when it started getting bad.

December 2019, I found an excuse to get out of the house, for half an hour. I drove out, I met with some friends, and for some reason, my stomach hurt. It was the first time that stress had lingered on me. I wasn't in a stressful situation anymore. I was out of my kids' earshot, they couldn't call to me anymore.

I went home, and I asked for help. I talked to a therapist. I tried to make a plan.

But after five years, it's clear I have chronic stress. I haven't felt well-rested since then. I have been able to leave stressful situations and feel good, but when I return home to my children, the familiar stress comes back.

Sometimes it's my stomach. Sometimes it's my chest, feeling tight. Sometimes I'll just cry, unprovoked.

I am burnt out and still running myself raw, to the point where I feel like I'm going to look back at this part of my life and feel trauma.

The other day, I helped a new neighbor move, bringing three new kids to our little cousin cult compound. During the move, she asked me why we never went out with them to concerts. I told her that it cost money, and that we don't have people to look after the kids. Meanwhile, her three kids were at the zoo, being taken by their new grandmother, along with the other three step-siblings.

I'm trying to put all my thoughts down before they can fester in my brain, and they're not good thoughts.

For five years, I have made no secret of my stress, of how it hurts me, of how I need help. I know that it's my problem to solve, but I'm burnt out. I've been burnt out.

But I can't keep asking for help when nothing seems to work. Asking my brother for a favor, getting a night off, and coming back only to feel stressed again, it's not fair.

We make enough money to pay the bills and be comfortable, but we don't have the kind of money to spend on babysitters and concerts and housecleaners and summer camps.

And besides all the money, we just don't have the energy. I see my boys' cousins going to clubs, being a part of the scouts, playing soccer, and it leaves me with only guilt, because it feels like we just can't afford this, in money, time, or energy.

Every day, when our kids are upstairs, Jessi and I are wiped out. We've both got burnout, and we can't seem to gain ground. We just don't have any energy left in the day.

And I can feel anxiety creeping in. The kids go to school, but even when I sleep all day, I don't get any energy back. Even when I look for editing work, I can't find any. Even with time away from my kids, I'm still unhealthy, I'm still stressed, and everyone knows.

I feel like we're barely managing our kids' behavior, but they still fight, bicker, and argue. We're spent. We're running on no energy. I've been struggling with chronic stress for five years now, and there's no end in sight.

I feel unsupported, and I feel hopeless that any support now could heal the last five years. I feel guilty that my wonderful kids deserve a healthy dad who can keep himself together, but instead they've got me.