You all know what a mess I was two years ago. While I fully anticipated that having kids would change my life, I absolutely did NOT have even an inkling of what was life with colic. “Upheaval” does not even begin to define what I went through – what my family went through – just fumbling through those days.
It was the only time in my life, ever, that I looked up at the front door and seriously considered just walking away. From all of it. This home. This endless drain. My failure as a parent. My inadequacies as a wife. I didn’t go, of course. I could not leave them – these people who mean more to me than the air in my lungs. So, I spent a lot of warm, sunny afternoons downstairs with the kids in the basement playroom. Where I couldn’t see the road.
The gift of that dark time was myself. If you’ve ever lived a month without sleep, you know you can’t pretend to be anything other than you are. There is no room for white lies, dishonest courtesy, bullshit, or sugar coating. Bold honesty stems from not giving a shit what anyone thinks, anymore. And the gift, here, is your first glimpse of your own authentic self.
More from parenting