"‘Devastated’ is an understatement, yet I am far too broken to search for a more fitting word. I have said this before, and I will say it another million times: I am not stupid. I never expected parenting to be easy, but if there were words, if the dialogue existed to effectively detail precisely how difficult it would be, I might have reconsidered." ...Oh my friend... my heart aches for you. Deeply. I see you. I mourn with you. Nothing could have ever prepared me for the journey I am navigating, either. The journey I haven't ever fully opened up about. Thank you for sharing. 💔 Sending you so much love.
My heart is aching for you. I hold so very much pain for my own girls and our wounds and my mistakes so I partner with you in the heartbreaking soul shattering pain of mothering gone *wrong*. All I can offer is that your love is evident. And so very powerful. That is THE most important thing in a humans life. I fully, selfishly, believe that. And you are providing that ❤️🩹❤️🔥
You know, when we speak these things into the world, when we dare say them out loud; (most) every other woman who's within earshot will pipe up in that awkward but particular high pitch that we're meant to associate with surprise or disbelief, yet it's laced with a staunch blend of sarcasm and deception: "nooooo! My Dhar-leeng. You. Are. An. Ex-cellent mom! You are doing your best and none of us know what we're doo-ing..."
You're left feeling gaslit and cheap.
Your comment, however, lands on the extreme opposite side of that spectrum.
Again, thank you.
It's so empowering to speak to mothers who aren't "perfect". I have a theory though, and I think it's solid: the perfect, vicarious moms, with the perfect kids who slept through the night from birth, who love absolutely all their veggies, and never gets fussy on a plane or other public transport, you know the ones; I know how they do it.
Xanax and day drinking. Or she's lying through her teeth.
"‘Devastated’ is an understatement, yet I am far too broken to search for a more fitting word. I have said this before, and I will say it another million times: I am not stupid. I never expected parenting to be easy, but if there were words, if the dialogue existed to effectively detail precisely how difficult it would be, I might have reconsidered." ...Oh my friend... my heart aches for you. Deeply. I see you. I mourn with you. Nothing could have ever prepared me for the journey I am navigating, either. The journey I haven't ever fully opened up about. Thank you for sharing. 💔 Sending you so much love.
Thank you Megan. Your comment touches me, deeply. Loves to you too.
My heart is aching for you. I hold so very much pain for my own girls and our wounds and my mistakes so I partner with you in the heartbreaking soul shattering pain of mothering gone *wrong*. All I can offer is that your love is evident. And so very powerful. That is THE most important thing in a humans life. I fully, selfishly, believe that. And you are providing that ❤️🩹❤️🔥
You know, when we speak these things into the world, when we dare say them out loud; (most) every other woman who's within earshot will pipe up in that awkward but particular high pitch that we're meant to associate with surprise or disbelief, yet it's laced with a staunch blend of sarcasm and deception: "nooooo! My Dhar-leeng. You. Are. An. Ex-cellent mom! You are doing your best and none of us know what we're doo-ing..."
You're left feeling gaslit and cheap.
Your comment, however, lands on the extreme opposite side of that spectrum.
Again, thank you.
It's so empowering to speak to mothers who aren't "perfect". I have a theory though, and I think it's solid: the perfect, vicarious moms, with the perfect kids who slept through the night from birth, who love absolutely all their veggies, and never gets fussy on a plane or other public transport, you know the ones; I know how they do it.
Xanax and day drinking. Or she's lying through her teeth.
Ha! I think there's an essay hiding in there.
Oof so true. I’ve never ever got in with the *typical* moms. My soul cringes deeper inside my body at just remembering having to be around “them”