The truth in my pain

There was once a time when my children didn’t overwhelm my very being. When I wasn’t short tempered and impatient. When I could clean and cook and do fun stuff with them. When everyday was an adventure with them and not just a day to get through. When I loved every moment of being a mom and never wondered why I had kids. When I just knew.

And then depression entered my life. Now some days are good days. But most days aren’t. Most days are just days to get through. Now I find myself frustrated and annoyed by tantrums that I used to work through with them. I find myself allowing more screen time. I take them to the park less.

I write this with a heavy heart and tears running down my cheeks. Alex starts school in a month. The last days of having him home with me all day everyday are upon us. And I can’t muster up the strength to enjoy them. I feel trapped in my weaknesses.

I love my kids more then words can possibly express. But lately I wonder if they know that. If I am capable of showing them that. It hurts to think I might be failing them. To know I’m not being the best I can be. And not know how to fix it.

I feel so much guilt when I raise my voice. Or snap at them. Or show my annoyances.

I dont write this for your sympathy or to search for words of encouragement. I write this because I feel alone. But I can’t be the only mom who feels this. I hope my confessions can make even one mom feel a little less alone.

Whoever you are, you are not alone.