The weekend started as it always does. Kike gets up first as he takes Summer to Jiujitsu. They leave and River hops into bed with me.

“Mummy not sleeping.”
No sweetheart, I’m not sleeping.
“I’m very hungry.”

OK, that’s my cue to get up, even though I know Kike would have already given him Breakfast Number 1.

My mornings seem to all blur at the moment. I go to the kitchen, cut up some fruit and present it to River to see if it pleases him. Usually it does, so I go back. Empty the dishwasher, put away last night’s things, wash up that random stuff that you’ve taught yourself doesn’t go in the dishwasher. Then move onto the washing that needs to be put on and yesterday’s that needs to be folded and put away. All with little shouts from River every 3–4 minutes “MUMMY” which needs a reassuring “Yes River” but I never get a reply.

The other two arrive home and I bake a banana bread as we have black bananas and I hate them going to waste (and we all love it). Then it’s already 11am. Time to start prepping lunch. My tiredness is hanging over me. I wake up feeling a bit better but by 11am I’m already back to zero again.

I sit down but my mind won’t switch off. I order Summer some school shoes, they obviously won’t fit but she has to have something for next week. I tell her we can go and get more next weekend if they’re terrible. I order her a new coat and some school socks. I order the weekly food shop. And suddenly it’s 12pm. I make Summer and River their lunch and go back to bed.

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The Everyday Weight

What do I do? These jobs need doing. Kike does the majority of the cooking and his fair share of cleaning, I hate doing the bathroom. It’s just maintaining a household. But when you have a child with higher needs, you don’t seem to manage to carve out time for yourself.

My worry about going back to work was becoming stronger and probably not helping my physical state. My words began to slur and I couldn’t keep my eyes open again.

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The Decision to Leave

I made a decision. I needed to leave. Now, I make it sound dramatic, I’m not abandoning my family or leaving Kike. I just need to leave the house and rest. So, I booked a night at the hotel down the road.

I got out of bed, threw my pyjamas and swimming costume into a bag. Explained to Summer that I needed to go somewhere to sleep for a bit and that I would be back tomorrow. She understood and kissed me goodbye and off I went.

I woke up and watched a bit of TV, then decided I would wander down to our pub. I sat at the bar, a rare treat. At first people didn’t know I was there. No one is used to me sitting on my own. I chatted to a few friends which was really nice but it was much busier than I expected and I grew very tired, very quickly. I said my goodbyes and headed back.

I chose this hotel because it’s close and it has a pool. I got changed, went down and went for a late evening swim. I love swimming and it did feel like a treat. I didn’t get to swim much on our holiday so this was great.

I’m back in my room now. I got some food from the local supermarket, not enough. I’m still hungry. I do have breakfast in the morning so I think I’ll just wait and enjoy it more.

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Mum Guilt

The few people that know I’m here are happy for me.
“You need this.”
“You have to rest.”

And I know they’re right but the guilt is loud.

There’s always that voice:
– I left them.
– Who’s going to take Summer to swimming tomorrow?
– Will Kike remember to put the cream on River’s face?
– Surely I could have just stayed home and rested in bed…

It’s as if every moment I take for myself has to be justified, defended, weighed against what I “should” be doing for them. And that’s the heart of the mum guilt. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been running the house, chasing River, managing appointments, ordering school supplies, cooking, cleaning, folding, worrying. It only seems to measure what I didn’t do.

But deep down I know this: if I don’t step away now, my body will make the choice for me later. I will be no use to anyone if I end up in hospital.

Why don’t I give myself the same care I give to everyone else? Maybe because somewhere along the line I decided my needs always come last. Maybe because I’ve learned to measure myself by how much I can carry, not by how well I can rest.

But perhaps tonight is my first step in unlearning that.

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A Quiet Reframe

I’m no use to anyone if I’m broken. And taking one night to rest doesn’t undo all the ways I care for them every single day. Maybe instead of guilt, I need to call it balance. Or maybe just survival.

Anyway, I’m going to watch my coming-of-age, 26-year-olds-playing-teenagers show on this fancy hotel TV and then go to sleep. Tomorrow, everything will be the same but hopefully I’ll be able to deal with it better.