Who am I?

a little more background...

I kept showing up—for everyone else. Dishes done. Laundry put away. Kids’ schedules coordinated. Dinner on the table. Tucking away my own needs, smiling through the breakdown, and they called it strength.

But it wasn’t strength. It was survival.

On October of 2017, I woke up hungover and quickly tried to piece together the events from the night before.

Had I put my children to bed? Did they cry in the middle of the night for me? Did I do anything to upset my husband?

I quickly look over at him sleeping beside me and try to scan his body language desperately searching for any clues about the night before…nothing.

I lay there in my self-pity as the hot tears began to spill down my cheeks.

“Why am I such a horrible mom? My husband deserves so much better. I can’t do this anymore”, I thought to myself.

I went in to the small, olive green bathroom and looked in the mirror- disgusted with who I had become and realizing I was repeating the very childhood I was still recovering from.