I am tired

The first day I thought about death, it was kind of scary. And the first few days after that, I was worried and at the same time ashamed of my thoughts. I felt guilty for thinking such 'bad thoughts'.

Whenever I sat on a motorbike, I imagined what my lifeless body would look like if we crushed into a trailer or a commuter taxi or simply just fell into a trench. I thought about how my bad thoughts would take along another innocent person's life... me and my death wish.

With time, it became comforting. I actually found solace in the thought of being no more. Of my existence becoming obliterated. Of forever no more.
Then I looked at my children. I seem to be their every need's provider. A fight amongst themselves will never be cleared if Mummy does not say something. Even a fall at school will still 'hurt' until Mummy says sorry!
Micah... oh my Micah, has learned to ask Mummy to forgive him whenever he does something wrong. Goes all stuttery on me after he's torn my bank slips... "M-m-mummy nsonyiwa".

Then there are those friends who feel, Mauryn knows what to say and when to say it. Except when she doesn't. Housemates who believe I have the answers to all questions. Who think and feel I will be capable of fixing everything- from previously dried up mushroom gardens to broken Television sets. Mauryn can and will find a solution to it. Just mention the problem and she will bend backwards to make sure it works.

If I were a tree

Then the children by the road whose mothers believe a six year old should be in position to cross a road that has five vehicles driving by every thirty seconds. And this six year old has with them two other toddlers not older that three years each. And somehow they are supposed to go across that road. Mauryn always stops to help these children cross the road.

The lists are long. Most of the entrants on these lists seem to need me. But I want to die. This is why.
I am tired. (sounds cowardly and everything despicable) But I am tired. I am tired of taking care of everything and everyone.
I know a few people out there who are always ready to help me and take care of me if I ask them to. Be if financially, emotionally or otherwise. I know one who will not complain about being woken up at two a.m only to listen to me express my fears over my cousin whose labor seems to be static. And another who will delegate someone to send me money (if I need it) even though they are on another continent. And those who will not hesitate to come pick me up from work when my body fails to move on its own.
Yes, I do have an army of Angels, always ready to save my day- but I am tired.
I am tired of asking for help. I am tired of being the one who always has tears running down my face and heart. I am tired of seeking bailouts every so often.

And yes, death seems like the only thing left for me to try. Right now, my back aches and my whole body aches along. Back got injured a couple of weeks ago- it hurts. But the pain is bearable because I believe sooner than later, this injury and everything aching will lead me to my final destination. So, compared to my reward- I am living through this pain. Working around it.

I have mastered a way of using the parts of my body that don't require much energy to do the jobs of those parts that have started dying off. I still worry about my Children. I worry that they will be left in the hands of a Step Mother who does not care much about them beyond the child support cheque that her husband should be sending out to them but doesn't. Maybe they will get carted off to Grand parents who love them so but Old age will not let them do for them what they would have loved to.
I worry that I will not be here when Micah shows off his girlfriend. Or that I will not see the day my daughters get their own babies.
I still worry about all that- but I am tired.

I used to look forward to dawn- now I look forward to dusk. When the day breaks, I mumble words with my little ones. Words that should bring hope and sunshine to our hearts..

This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad

 But Gladness eludes me. Because with the day comes the constant reminder that I am nothing to myself. I might be something to others, but nothing to myself. I have failed myself to a point that I can't recognize my own reflection in the water (mirrors are scary)
And I am tired.

Tonight, I will go to sleep with the hope that either this conundrum that has become my life comes to an end or gets cleared. 
Guess this is my #SOS or simply paranoia. Or maybe just my usual drama. We'll never know.