Here we go again.

Depression lies. And right now it’s telling me I’m not cut out for this mom gig. That I can’t do it. That I should just pack my bags and run for the hills, because what the fuck am I doing anyway? I’m probably just screwing them up even though I’m trying so hard to be a loving and patient mom.

This isn’t how I thought parenting would be. Me depressed. Frazzled. Tired. Frustrated. I knew parenting was hard when I chose to have children, but I didn’t know I was going to struggle this much. I didn’t know that I’d have to deal with a spirited toddler on top of significant depression. I didn’t know that I was going to hate the current stage my toddler is in, or that I would hate bedtime because it’s So. Fucking. Hard.

I can’t breathe I feel so guilty. And all I can do is tell myself “one day at a time. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. ”

Keep going.

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