It’s been rough. Really rough. It’s been a while since I had a genuinely bad time and going through another one has made me think back on how I have survived so much.
Everyone always tells you that being a single mom is hard work, that I am so strong and brave and amazing for working, going to school and taking care of my children. But I can’t say I ever really believe them.
Because they don’t see the tears I cry. They don’t see me losing my temper. They don’t see me struggling just to keep the living room picked up. They don’t see me sobbing at my filthy apartment because I am too tired to clean it. They don’t see me struggling to come up with a healthy and filling meal for my children while I go hungry because I am too tired to eat.
I know that those struggles and the fact that I keep showing up at work and school every day, that my children are still healthy and fed and loved means I am succeeding. That I am strong. But I always feel that I am failing. That I am falling further and further behind. That I am not doing all I should or that I can do to make life as good as it could be for us.
I feel like I need help. I am drowning, and can’t do it alone. Though I know I have been through so much worse and this is nothing in comparison.
When we struggle, how we struggle, and how we deal with the struggle makes us who we are. It’s just facing it that takes the most out of us.