On Feeling Accomplished

Wednesday, August 12, 2015



If I saw my present-self four years ago, I wouldn't know who the hell I was looking at.
A work-at-home mom, trying to hold it together, wearing the same thing every damn day, practically jumping at every playdate opportunity just to socialize. And then there's the random stuff thrown in like running races and taking step aerobics classes with the geriatric group at the women's gym. Yes. I'm a stranger even to myself.
I've had a few conversations with a fellow mom friend (which, we became friends via Facebook, something I also never thought I'd do) about just this very thing. This is the life we dreamed of. This is the life we've always wanted. What we didn't really think about were the tough times, the day-to-day moments of tantrums, sleeplessness and the overall feeling of being just completely overwhelmed. But don't you dare complain. Because this is what you've always wanted.
I've had some pretty low moments. During the newborn stage, the teething stages, the sleep training stages--there are so many freaking stages and I'm sure I cried through all of them. I've cried while looking out my window many a time before, counting down the hours and minutes until my husband came home. For almost 2 years ( I can't even believe that as I write it) I've felt completely consumed by being a new mom. But this is what I wanted.
In a way, yes it's been lonely. Yes, I've had to "find" myself. I've had to really work hard to find things to do that make me happy and to make me stay sane. I love being a mom more than anything in the world, but it's consuming, and I'm not used to feeling like that. Call that selfish, tell me I should have known what I was getting myself into, but it's the truth. And thankfully, I don't think I'm the only one that's ever felt this way.
This past year I've done one 5K, two 10K's, and a Spartan Race. I will straight up laugh in your face if you call me a "runner", because that couldn't be farther from the truth. I hate running. But doing these ridiculous races has given me something to accomplish. It's something I can get a freakin' medal for. You crossed the finish line, congratulations. Nobody hands me a medal at the end of the day. The closest I get to that is a ginormous glass of wine, barely past 5 p.m. I feel like a freaking superwoman running those races. I don't do it for the times. I just do it for the feeling I get just for finishing. (Well, and for the brunching/drinking that occurs afterward. Duh)
So is this the life I always dreamed of? In a way, yes. I don't really remember my life before having my son. And I love this kid so much it hurts. But I still have to work even harder to bring back my own personal happiness- feelings of accomplishment and success for me. Not just getting a high-five because we made it through the day without any shit (like literally, shit) appearing on the carpet. 
Props to all the mamas who are livin' the dream, makin' it work and not compromising on your happiness and fulfillment. I'm still trying to figure it all out...



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