I had had one fleeting moment of wavering conviction, merely an act of habit. And as much as I would have love to have felt the guilt, I didn't. There was a blankness, a blindness in my maternal extinct because this was not a life, it was a death. The feeling of not feeling was a comfort.
Brightness won't dim
and the shadows do sigh. Silent dissolution,
forgotten and shy.
Today is the last day,
The blinds will be closed.
The coffee runs sour.
The twitch in my eye.
Happiness is a strange construct - it is an ever-distancing line in the sand that just tempts us into believing that things can be better. It's the cheap sugary cereal of the breakfast foods - it lies about being healthy, gives you a rush of sugar, and never really fills you up.
"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.