Last week nearly broke me. The exhaustion nearly broke me. Loneliness nearly broke me. Doing this, single parenting thing, it nearly broke me. My kid and his insane energy nearly broke me. Looking at my finances nearly broke me. Being the sole source of everything everything for this little family nearly broke me.
I got to a point and I told myself 'this is it, this is my breaking point'. I can't remember when I have felt so low or so alone, but that was it. I felt as if one more demand was place on me, one more thought I had to think or need for my attention, my energy, I would break. I was at that point where a question like 'what's wrong?' had an impossible answer. Where one more person in my headspace would have tipped it over. Where when my family asked me how my week had been I couldn't answer for choking back the tears and they knew in that moment and forced me to rest and took care of my kid for a few hours while I did.
And I stepped back a little. Back from that breaking point. And I realised, I couldn't break. I wouldn't shatter into a million tiny pieces. I thought I was at breaking point - but you're a parent, you can't ever be there. You can't let yourself lie broken on the floor, some tiny feet would come and step on the mess and someone would need to pick out those tiny splinters. Someone would need to sweep up. Someone would need to stick everything back together and someone would need to kiss it all better again.
Last week I didn't let myself break. I wasn't at my breaking point. I was being pushed and pulled and tugged at, but I wouldn't break. I know that now. That was just my stretching point.