September 26, 2011

outdoor supervisor.

My report card for this past semester of life came in the mail. It reads:
Mother: A-
Wife: F+

I made this joke to friends on twitter last week (because it's funny) but I wasn't really joking. It was one of those passing comments made in jest that exposes secret weakness, the thing that's eating away at your heart.

I've got motherhood down. I understand what to do, when, and why, and how to rock it. Meeting those needs is easy and the work is fulfilling. It makes me happy.

Marriage is far more challenging in comparison and I suck at it right now. Maybe all the time. Hell, I don't know.

Whenever I find myself in a dark place I feel as if this is just me, getting what I deserve. I probably deserve whatever unhappiness or loneliness I've come upon because of what I am. If I tried harder, was better, brighter, prettier, smarter, these things would never happen. My rational brain sees this thought floating by and pinpoints it as nonsense. Inside the logic remains my perfectly inescapable prison.

I should probably just try harder, you know?

{very important addendum}
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