Let me preface this post by saying this – I love my kids and being their mother is not something I take lightly. They are healthy, happy and well taken care of. Please remember this point as you read the rest of this post.
It has been a full month since I awoke on the last day of January as a new and complete woman.
I opened my eyes on that day and declared, “without any excuses, I am going to start having my shit together and my ducks in a row.”
…OK y’all. If you are really believing that crap, then *gasp* you don’t know me at all.
I remember when I was unhappy.
I have been a victim of depression and anxiety for as long as I have been an adult -even before that, really – and for that, no one is to blame. A chemical imbalance in my brain is nothing I can say was planned by someone else or an intentional conception or my fault.
But, I can remember a time when I was truly unhappy simply because I chose to be. Sometimes we can get so deep into self-loathing that being mean to others and spreading that unhappiness starts to feel good somehow. These feelings probably have a little bit to do with depression – and a whole lot more to do with selfishness.
Three years ago I noticed my first wrinkle. It’s the one that starts in between your brows as the number 1 and ends up the number 11 soon thereafter.
I guess have too many “WTF” moments and crinkle my brows too much.