It is Sunday early in the afternoon and the girls are napping. I am sitting in the dark in my room wondering whether I should get ready and clean the house while I can, or go under the covers and cry. It is that kind of day.
It has been so hard.
Hard is raising children, hard is raising them alone, hard is missing your husband so much it hurts, hard is breastfeeding, hard is being away from home in a place that will never feel like home, hard is solitude, hard is aiming for the unattainable: perfection, hard is losing yourself, hard is feeling like a failure, hard is feeling like you are not good enough, hard is not having time for yourself.
“…And I’m sad, sad, sad, small, alone, scared, craving purity, a fragile mind and a gentle spirit.”