This morning, I found myself tempted to pull the blankets over my head and retreat into my own world, consumed by self-pity. The urge to cry was palpable, threatening to spill over at any moment.
But then the alarm rang. I considered ignoring it, but reality set in. The kids needed to get ready for school, and the little ones needed their breakfast. So, with a deep breath, I threw the covers aside, my feet hitting the floor with determination, albeit without any elegance. My body ached, and I felt the weight of life’s stresses coursing through me like an electric shock. “Shake it off,” I reminded myself. “Just breathe.”
I woke the older kids with a gentle tickle of their toes. I lifted my babies from their cribs, inhaling that enchanting baby scent that always lifts my spirits. I hugged my toddler tightly, showering him with kisses. I think I was a decent mom today; I managed to shield them from my inner turmoil. But the tears still lingered just below the surface, and I have to confess, I let them out. During the boys’ nap time, I sneaked away to my room and cried.
I cried because my parents are unwell, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. My father’s Alzheimer’s continues to worsen, and my mother, who longs to play with her grandkids, struggles just to walk. I see them as the strong individuals who raised me, but time is relentless. It takes away moments and joy, and my heart breaks a little more each day. My depression may or may not have gripped me today, but I managed to keep it hidden pretty well.
I cried because I felt like I was letting my kids down in some way. That relentless mother’s guilt—oh, how it gnaws at me—constantly questions if they are happy. Deep down, I know they are, but I can’t shake that feeling. I tend to be overly critical of myself. And still, the tears came.
I cried because I felt like a failure, a mere shadow of my former self. I sacrificed so many dreams and pieces of myself that I’ve lost touch with who I am. I fear that when my kids think of me, they’ll see just “Mom” and nothing more. What happens when they no longer need me? That thought alone makes me feel like a total loser.
I cried because I worried that sharing these feelings would make it seem like I’m ungrateful for my children. But I wouldn’t trade any of it. If given the chance, I would relive it all—every moment, every challenge.
My ADD often runs wild, and these thoughts can spiral out of control, leaving my mind feeling like a balloon on the verge of bursting. I recognize that motherhood is an overwhelming journey, compounded by external pressures. Yet, I don’t want my kids to bear the weight of my struggles. They deserve nothing but love.
And the love I have for them can sometimes feel like a heavy burden. I don’t know how I can love them so fiercely. They are truly remarkable. Don’t get me wrong; there are days when it feels like chaos reigns, with everyone testing my patience. I find myself shouting, “Go to bed!” or “Please, just stop!” over and over. But later, when the house falls silent, I peek into their rooms and watch them sleep, marveling at their peaceful faces. “I’m sorry I yelled,” I whisper. Will they remember today’s frustrations tomorrow? No. They’ll wake up, smile, and love me unconditionally. Because in their eyes, I’m simply Mom, and that is enough.
I feel caught between the needs of my children and the realities of my own life. It often seems like there aren’t enough hours in the day or enough of me to meet everyone’s demands. Still, I’m grateful to be needed and wanted. My tears are a bittersweet reminder of that.
So, today was a pretty good day. Yes, I cried. But through the tears, I breathed. Through the anxiety, I breathed. With every hug, every “I love you” or even “Leave me alone!” I breathed.
And you know what? It’s perfectly okay if all I accomplished today was simply breathing.
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Summary:
Parenthood can be overwhelming, filled with moments of joy and sadness alike. It’s okay to feel like you’ve done nothing more than breathe on tough days. Embracing the love for your children while managing your own feelings is a journey many can relate to. Remember, it’s perfectly fine if simply getting through the day is enough.
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