And maybe the sometimes stagnant part of my life right now just is begging for the destructive drama that my first relationship imprinted on me. Life is perfect now so let's destroy, says the drunken witch of PTSD... the inner demon HE had left behind.
You are my mom. But somewhere along the line I became the nurturer. The unconditional love between us has allowed us to ignore our identities as people and to just fall into these roles that are locked in the guilt and hurt that strikes me at the core.... over and over and over again.
"Life as we knew it was gone" - all new parents say that and while it is definitely true, I think we leave out the most important part of that - it's not just life that changes, WE change.
It took me months to find out I was in the midst of the worst depression and anxiety attack that I had ever been in; it took me weeks to reach out for help; and then it took me months to thankfully climb back out.
And maybe I do ask too much. Maybe this is just too hard for me. Maybe I'm just not the right type of woman to just accept this. Sometimes I doubt myself and start to believe it. But I am a good mom. I'm just tired and used and a little chewed up. Tired.
I've moved around so much that I'm just fragments of stages of my life. To me, they create a kaleidoscope of experience and depth but to others, they can only see that me that is present.
I was supposed to be special. But I'm not. Not in the "Bill Gates" "Steve Jobs" sort of way. And that's unsettling for me. I'm not a great. But I was supposed to be. But I'm not. And that realization has taken me years of self hate to endure and surpass. I am not a Great.