Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

A couple nights ago, I slept on the floor. I had watched a youtube video about a minimalist family that slept on the floor. a few days prior to that. But that’s not why I slept on the floor. My son’s room is completely gutted right now as I’m painting and refinishing the floors before putting together the bunk bed in that space. He and his dad slept in our bed. And being an average 5 year old, he wears a pull up. This night he managed to pee so much he peed through the pull up. There was a pee spot where I’d normally sleep. I was sleeping on the couch, thankfully. I sleep quite well there and prefer it, actually. The next night my son was missing me and came out to lay with me on the couch. It was tight but I appreciated the warmth. But he had taken his pull up off and, sure enough, started to pee on me in his slumber. I had no where else to sleep. So I slept on the floor.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

I’ve been trying my damnedest to homeschool him. He has no formal education. We didn’t qualify for any pre-kindergarten programs. He went to daycare briefly but we couldn’t afford the doctor’s visits on top of the daycare charges. He was getting strep within a few days of returning after treatment over and over. My mom watched him. Unfortunately, I was so busy at work, sometimes only getting to put him down for bed that day, that I didn’t notice he wasn’t getting educated during his time there. So now he’s 5 and is struggling to learn his abc’s and 123’s. I’m trying all the resources but it doesn’t seem to be clicking for him. I’m teetering on the edge of whether or not to put him in public school. We only have full day kindergarten here and while I already don’t think he’s ready for it, he’s also absolutely terrified of it. With the anxiety problems many people on my side of the family have faced, I’m worried forcing him will trigger full blown anxiety. He’s a bright boy, just not in the way the schools mandate he be.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

I went to dry a load of laundry for, I think, the fifth time about 2 weeks ago. That’s when the fog from my brain cleared and I realized there was something wrong. The dryer had literally just stopped and the clothes were cold. There was no heat. It’s getting colder outside. This is not good. And so, for about two weeks, I’ve been hanging all of my clothes to dry. I started pulling the dryer apart and did a bit of research online and it looked, for certain, that it was the heating element. And there’s no fixing a heating element, there’s replacing a heating element. The thing is, my washer has been having a weird issue where it won’t spin out all of the water from whatever we wash. So it’s likely the result of putting off that issue for so long. So now I’m buying a heating element, putting that in, and then moving onto the washer’s suspension issue. Yeah, I googled the code that comes up when the washer stops during it’s spin cycle. I also get to try and figure that one out, too. I feel like my entire life is one big irony fest. We only have this washer and dryer because a few years ago, our dryer stopped working. And my father in law insisted on buying us a new set instead of just buying a basic dryer to replace the broken one. Now I’m fixing both. And I have peed on bedding I need to wash.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

And then there’s my little hashtag. #Showmeyourboho was started nearly two years ago. Many friends had started their own tags and were collaborating with other people on tags. I was feeling a little left out since I’m never asked to collaborate on things. Then the issue of reposting content you don’t own kind of blew up  because it was, and still is, against Instagram’s terms of use. So I created a hashtag and invited people to use it if they’d like to be featured. Essentially covering my butt, because people shouldn’t/wouldn’t use it unless they wanted me to repost their picture, right? And the two years have gone by and it’s grown into a little thing and most people don’t even know where it originates from anymore. And I still haven’t been asked to collaborate on anything so I’ve just been chugging along as a lone ranger of the Insta world. Inviting 30 people, without question or judgment, to guest host on the second photo a day challenge. I took people with a couple hundred, a couple thousand and tens of thousands of followers. I wanted to build community and friendships and help boost recognition for accounts that were smaller. But I still haven’t been invited to collaborate on anything. And then a good friend points out that a group of gals spun off my hashtag. It’s literally the hashtag I created with shelfie at the end. And, as you guessed, I wasn’t invited to collaborate on it. Now, I don’t own the rights to Show Me Your Boho or anything like that. But I considered some of these gals friends. I would’ve welcomed them with arms in the next boho photo a day challenge. But that same sisterhood wasn’t reciprocated. Sometimes I feel more alone than ever.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

Then there’s my toilet. We have one toilet in the house. And, for some karmic reason, the wax seal continuously stops working. I’d noticed my bathroom beginning to have a funky smell so I sat down and hand scrubbed everything. And then it started to come back. And then I noticed wetness around the toilet. And a bit more. It’s not misaimed pee from a 5 year old. My wax seal isn’t working to seal the toilet again. If I could figure out why this keeps happening, I’d surely fix that instead of buying wax seals over and over. But I can’t figure out why the damned toilet won’t stay sealed. It doesn’t rock. It doesn’t shift. It just leaks. So, I need to take the shelves down from around it. Shelves, ironic, right? And get help pulling the toilet out. I think I’ll have to move my wicker cabinet out of the bathroom for this process, too. And I’ll scrub the shit (literally) out of the floor, we’ll put down a new seal, and I’ll pray it seals for good… this time.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

I have two cats. The one you always see is Zen and she’s pretty fabulous because she cuddles and shakes her leg when you scratch her chest and comes up to any of us when we are upset. She’s basically a therapy cat. But her adopted sister is Bo and Bo kinda sucks. She’s super skiddish. She hides from us all the time and if that means she has to use the bathroom underneath a piece of furniture to avoid us, she’ll do it. Within the past couple of months, she’s started sneaking outside and running away for a few days at a time. If she wants to be a feral cat, than so be it. It’s kind of hard to force a cat to stop that and she’s fixed so at least she wouldn’t be getting knocked up. But after a few day, once she realizes she’s cold and hungry, she sneaks back into the house. By the time I find her in the house, I don’t know how long she’s been in the house. I don’t know if she’s been exposed to rabies, or feline leukemia, or any array of different diseases and illnesses that a cat could come in contact with outside. My fear is that she will sneak into the house, expose my good cat and my dog to something, leave them ill and just run away again. She also has horrible poops after she’s been out and it’s insult upon injury. I don’t want to clean it up.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

This past summer I kept begging for rain. My herbs and tomatoes and flowers really needed it. My mom would get rain just a few miles over in the next city but I’d just have clouds. Now that all my plants are nearing death for Fall, it’s been raining for a week straight.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

My son’s toads died. They were fine and a few days later they were skin and bones. We’d taken them for a swim in all the rain water that had collected in the kiddy pool we have out for them. I was just making plans for making their tank extra cool for going into my son’s room.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

I had a pack of graham crackers out. They were opened. All the rain has the air so humid that they went soggy after two hours.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

One of my most favorite things to do, ever, is light hiking. I like getting my heart rate up a bit with some incline, but I don’t want to bring special equipment or camping gear just to get from point A to point B. But I have arthritis in my knees which makes it difficult for me to do this. Some days are good. Those are usually the days I don’t have someone who can watch my son.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

I pretty much always feel like I’m holding my breath. As soon as I sit down and repeat a mantra to myself about how grateful I am for something, something happens to that something. I could be homeless. And hungry. My son could be taken from me. I could have a husband who beats me. Or disfiguring acne. I could be working two jobs trying to pay bills and childcare. I could be in sex trafficking or forced labor. I could have jiggers in my feet. I could be in a hospital with cancer.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.

Things aren’t as wrong as they could be, but I still struggle to be grateful and that makes me feel even worse. I think everyone wants a break sometimes. For things to go smoothly for a bit before the next hurdle comes. I wish I were resilient enough to take these things with stride, spin them into a positive and move forward with life.

There are lots of people who sleep on the floor. Without a roof over their head and a blanket over them.

There are lots of people who want to homeschool their children, but can’t because they have to work.

There are lots of parents who want the chance to spend time with their children after working through their baby and toddler years, but can’t because they work.

There are a lot of people who wish they had a washer and dryer. And even the ones who do, would wish they had someone like my dad to help them figure out what’s wrong with them when they break.

There are people who don’t have internet. Or smartphones. And even ones who do, most of them don’t have time to manage social media, a blog, and an accompanying hashtag.

There are people who don’t have toilets. And people who wouldn’t have a bit of extra income to fix their toilet should it break.

There are people who wish they had pets but can’t because their situation leaves them in housing that won’t allow it, time that won’t allow it, or allergies that won’t allow it.

The rain will pass.

My son will have other pets.

I can buy more graham crackers.

I can still walk.

I know in my brain that I have things to be grateful for, to move forward for, but yet I can’t make myself feel it in my heart. I’m not happy and I don’t know how to change that. I feel alone, I feel tired, I feel unsuccessful, I feel frustrated, I feel ungrateful.

Everything keeps going wrong. Always.