Sometimes it is hard to be real. And I mean truly real. When you are real, it is the truth and most people can't handle the truth. I think a lot of my insecurities stem back to the fact that when I am real...it's not what people want to hear or see. So I am instead this character of what I think I should be or others want me to be. And in turn, that makes me unhappy.
I had some tumblr accounts and I deleted them. I keep trying to balance the mother side of me and the side of me I lost when I had children. Because that is what it feels like...lost. I can remember that person that I use to be and now when I look in the mirror, I can't really see her. She is gone. But I know it isn't true. I know that somehow I've buried her because I have jumped into motherhood. The truth of it is...I never thought I could be a mother. Or a good mother. I didn't have the best lead in that position so naturally I assumed that I would be just as I was taught. And people will tell you that if you care enough to worry about it, you will be just fine. That sounds good but I imagine there are folks that heard that same thing and yet somehow never managed to do better. Sometimes it's hard to break the pattern of how you were raised.
So here I am going through my days wondering what happened to the person I was and fighting to be a better mother, than I had. And yet I feel like I am failing. Like I don't know which way is up and it's all confusing and frustrating and guilt-inducing. That's real...all those emotions. Yet the one emotion I truly want is happiness. I want to be happy and feel happy and I want my kids to feel it too. I look at them when they are laughing or being silly and my heart aches for them. I pray that my short comings don't wreck them. That they don't grow up too messed up. I want them to be loving and kind and sympathetic. I want them to look back at their childhood and remember it as a happy time.