I am in a position of danger.
I am on the edge of just giving up. Letting everything go.
sitting on my butt and just eating cakes and pies all day long.
Working out feels too hard.
Eating right feels too hard.
I want to do these things but it just feels too hard.
Every time I want to go to the gym I am put off by having to sort something out for the kids.
I can’t just go whenever the fuck I feel like it, I have them to think about too.
It’s a 24/7 gym and yet once they are in bed, I just want to sloth.
They just consume energy constantly.
Make mess constantly.
require attention constantly.
I realise this sounds resentful, but it isn’t. On the contrary, there is nothing I enjoy more than wandering around with my babies, talking about what we come across, teaching them things and in turn, learning things from them.
It more feels like I don’t have the time/energy to do both.
I can either look after myself, or look after them.
How can I choose me, with all that is at stake?
Yet how can I not look after me?
On Tuesday, I’ll be 25.
This is not where I thought I would be at 25.
In someways good, in others, not so.
I knew I’d be a mum by now.
I thought I would be married. I expected to be married.
I expected to have the ability to earn enough money to be comfortable and not have to rely on my partner to provide for us.
I thought I would have been overseas by now.
I thought my life would be balanced enough that I would have me time AND time for my children.
I never expected motherhood to be this hard.
Or this rewarding.
I feel at breaking point.
And really, there is no solution.