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.
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.