Confession: sometimes I just want the world to fuck off

I’m in my 40s.

Blended family. Kids at all different stages. Some still need picking up, feeding, sorting. Others don’t need me like that anymore but bring bigger stuff that I can’t just fix.

Parents getting older. One with a degenerative illness. It’s not full drama every day. It’s just there. Always there.

House to run. Bills going out. Washing that never ends. Food that needs sorting every single day.

And a job where I’m meant to be switched on, professional, steady. The one who knows what they’re doing.

That’s my life.

Some mornings I wake up and I’m already fed up.

Not sleepy. Just done in my head.

Before I’ve even moved I’m thinking about work, money, kids, parents, what I didn’t do yesterday, what I’ve got coming up.

It’s like my brain never shuts off.

And if I’m honest, I’ve put a lot of this on myself.

No one’s told me I’m in charge of everything. I’ve just stepped into it.

I think ahead. I sort things early. I pick things up before they become a problem.

Because I want people to feel alright.

I don’t want my kids worrying.

I don’t want my parents feeling like a burden.

I don’t want things slipping.

So I hold it.

But it means I don’t stop.

Even when I sit down, I’m not relaxed. My head’s still going. My body’s still tense. I’m running through what needs doing next.

I’m right in the middle of it all.

Kids on one side growing up, bringing me stuff I can’t fix. Proper life stuff. And I’m there trying to say the right thing, keep it calm, act like I know what I’m doing.

Inside I’m thinking I hope this is enough. I hope I’m not getting this wrong.

Then the other side is my parents.

You can see things changing. Little bits at a time. Stuff you notice but don’t always say. You start thinking ahead without meaning to.

That sits with you.

And life just carries on anyway.

Work. School runs. Tea. Washing. Repeat.

I was stood in the kitchen the other day. Kettle on. Phone in my hand. Nothing going on.

But my head was full.

Work I hadn’t finished. Money going out. Something one of the kids had said. Thoughts about my parents that I didn’t want to go into.

And I just thought—

Who the hell made me the grown up in charge of all this?

I’m just a kid trying to deal with grown up stuff.

Then the kettle clicked and I carried on like normal.

That’s what it’s like.

Nothing massive. Just constant.

Work does my head in more than I admit.

It’s not just the job. It’s the thinking around it.

Watching what I say.

Reading people.

Going over conversations after.

Did I say too much. Not enough. Did they take that the wrong way.

It sticks with you.

Money’s always there.

Not crisis. Just constant.

What’s going out.

What’s coming in.

Can we do that. Should we wait.

It never leaves your head.

Then all the rest of it.

House. Food. Pets. Stuff that needs doing every day whether you feel like it or not.

If you leave it, it piles up.

So you don’t leave it.

And I can feel it in myself sometimes.

Someone asks me something simple and inside I’m thinking I’ve got ten other things in my head already.

But I don’t say it. I just get on with it.

There’s guilt as well.

Feeling like I should be doing more.

Or doing it better.

Or being more present.

Even when I’m already stretched.

And then I see these women.

Eyebrows done. Hair perfect. Skin routines. Looking like they’ve actually got time to look after themselves properly.

And I think—

Are they actually this together?

Or are they just better at hiding it?

Because I can barely remember to drink water some days.

I’m the one saying it’s fine.

I keep things steady so everyone else feels alright.

Even when I don’t feel alright in it.

Truth is, I’m not in control.

I’m just managing it.

Holding it together so it looks like I am.

And I don’t even know how to not be that person anymore.

Some days I just want to go to the park with my mates and drink a litre of cider.

No responsibility.

No one needing anything.

No thinking ahead.

Just be.

I don’t want everything to fall apart.

I just don’t want to carry all of it on my own.

But yeah…

Some days it comes out the same way.

I just want the world to fuck off.

Not forever.

Just long enough for my head to go quiet.

Because I’m tired.

I just don’t say it out loud.