Invasion of the Body Snatchers

It's Friday night.  Cade is asleep in my bed, Patrick is at work doing inventory overnight.  I'm alone and melancholy.  I had a good day today.  I really love my job and the people I work with. I enjoy going to work every day and I feel at home in my office, doing monotonous numbers work where 1 + 1 always equals 2 and all is right with the world.  I came home and ran and enjoyed it more than I ever thought I could.  But then the house quiets and I am alone with my thoughts. And my thoughts are apathetic and detached.  I have such verve for life when I am out in the world, but something about coming home just drains me.

Lately, Cade has been a whiny little brat.  That's pure honesty.  Yes, he is still my world, and before having a child I could not understand how you could totally love someone with everything in your being and still not really like them at the same time.  Well, here it is.  I look at his big brown eyes and his perfect face and I can't help but to grab and kiss him.  But then I hear the long whine of mooooommmmyyy and I just want to run and hide.  Sometimes it is so hard to keep myself going that it is just exhausting to have someone else around that relies so wholly on me.  I'm sure that it's a lifesaver for me; without him I wouldn't have a reason to fight for my sanity.  Oh, but the burden.

It occurred to me tonight that I am dreading the weekend and actually looking forward to jury duty on Monday.  What does that say about my existence?  Home has become this black hole that drains my will to live as soon as I cross the threshold.  It's like there is this oppressive spirit blanketing our home that only Patrick and I can feel. I hope so anyway.  At least Cade doesn't loose any of his vibrancy by walking in the door.  Patrick and I are nice to each other.  We hug and kiss on the cheek when we leave or come home.  We engage in conversation and witty rapport, but it all feels so empty.  I want to lay down and just sleep away the next couple of days so that I can come out on the other side and leave the doom of our domicile.  It's just no way to live.

Regardless, I am going to put on my big-girl panties and be the mother that I expect myself to be.  I will entertain my son and we will all go to the hockey game tomorrow and the birthday party on Sunday.  I will smile and act engaged.  But I will still feel like a shell of a person, a zombie only playing the part of Erin to lure my loved ones into a sense of false comfort.  What will it take to fill the void and get myself back?