Being a parent is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s exhausting. It’s frustrating. It’s downright debilitating sometimes.
More often than not I’m stressed, frustrated, even angry. And I hate that.
Parenting requires so much sacrifice. Am I sacrificing too much that I’m losing who I am? I’m too tired to want to play. I’m too stressed to enjoy things I used to love.
Some days I feel like I just want to run away from it all. Run away from the whining and crying, the sleepless nights, and the responsibility.
But I can’t.
When I have these thoughts and feel these feelings it makes me doubt my ability as a parent. Makes me question, am I really cut out for this?
I don’t dare say it out loud. Saying it out loud, that I feel inadequate as a parent, means admitting failure.
So I keep it to myself. I try not to show just how beat down and tired I am. Try to keep my anger under control. Try to breathe.
For them. They’re the reason I suffer through all of this pain, frustration, exhaustion, and sacrifice. Because these two tiny people have turned my world on its head in all kinds of crazy, wonderful, aggravating, terrifying, beautiful ways.
And I would do anything for them.