Behind Schedule

Every day I wake up thinking that I cannot be on time with everything. Whenever I start working on something, instead of feeling that I’m getting closer to achieve my goals, I have the sinking sensation of being further away from them.
There’s nothing new in my situation, I have been feeling the same for the last month and I have already stated it, but it’s incredible when you find out that even when your daily dose of Actimel is not functioning properly, due to stress or whatever, you can still go on fighting and refusing to surrender to the fact that none of us is an octopus.
Recognizing our own limitations is a good start when you want to stop feeling useless. You think that I’m talking nonsense, but, no. The explanation for this unclear paradox is the following: When you feel that you can do everything no matter what, and you suppose you have power over time, you will end up thinking that you are useless whenever you realize that time has gone by, and you couldn’t do what you had planned to do.
I have to take care of my family, work every day, and be on time with every assignment I have at school. It seems easy when you write it down in only one or two lines, but actually doing everything it’s really exhausting.
To be honest, the worst part in my case is that I’m so worried about fulfilling everyone’s (and my own) expectations in what’s related to my job and studies, that I haven’t realized until this morning that my son started pushing me away.
I don’t know if this is his way of punishing me for not being at home, and when I'm at home, I'm constantly thinking about something else I have to do, or if it is just because he is spending much time with his father. The thing is that it hurts anyway.
This morning, when I went to his room and said “Sweetyyy, it’s time… you have to wake up” and he answered “I wanted dad to come and wake me up”, I felt his words as a rusty knife cutting my heart into small pieces without any type of anaesthetic! And even when I truly wanted to cry as a baby, my instant answer was: “Ok, love…sleep again and I’ll tell your father to come”.
I’m still working on that, because since the day I was on surgery and the doctor said :”It’s a boy”, I have always been “first” in everything related to my son, and he came to me whatever happened to him at all times. My husband was just “painted”.
I think it’s going to take some time, until I accept (or not) that every moment I’m not at home, I’m turning into a cartoon, which is nice to be seen, but not as important as to spent much time with.