I’ve made it no secret that living far away from my family and friends I grew up with is not easy.
Being married and having children can be, shall we say “Trying”? at times, and for some reason, most of us are afraid to share these difficult moments, days, weeks, MONTHS with each other.
Living in the south, I have found this especially true. There’s a certain level of politeness and there’s a façade of happiness wherever you go and whomever you may speak to.
Sure, anyone who’s married and/or has children will chuckle and say something along the lines of “motherhood isn’t easy!” Or “being married has its challenges!”
But what I’m looking for is more along the lines of “I think I might murder my cocky-ass husband in his sleep tonight unless someone gives me a Xanax.” Or “Is it normal for a 6 month old to scream like her crib is on fire when there’s NOTHING wrong? Someone help me!”
Why are we afraid to say what’s really going on?
I was sitting down in the break room at my old job shortly after I got married and just said quite plainly “I hate him. I really just HATE him” and everyone just kind of looked at me with either judgement or pity, I couldn’t quite make out there expressions. All I knew was, I was alone.
“No?” I asked. “No one else? We all love our husbands?” Ok. Noted. No further outbursts from me.
All I wanted was someone else to look at me and say “Girl, me too”. That’s it.
Which is why I rely on about 3 or 4 friends I have back home who have known me and been through growing pains with me who I can call or text out of nowhere and just VENT. No judgement.
I can say things like “Remind me why we got married?” And I’ll get something back like “I’ve been wondering the same F-ing thing all week”. Or “You’re asking ME? I just told him to jump out of a moving car.” Simple. Honest. Real.
Some days, I have no patience and no more fucks left to give. Moments where if I didn’t have children, I’d walk out the front door and do whatever the hell I wanted for a week until I missed my life and drove back.
But I do have babies and responsibilities and I can’t just walk out and find a Blues Traveler concert tour to follow.
Thank God for the girls I can text with any amount of momentary meltdowns and thank God they all share the same thoughts and feelings I have.
If you feel like venting right this second, feel free to comment below and say whatever the hell you want! The more, the merrier.
If you’re too embarrassed to share, that’s fine too, just know you’re not alone. You’re doing a great job and the genuinely happy moments, days, months are there too. We all have them! The good, the bad, the trying.
Even the most polite people with good hair and well-blended makeup have thoughts of running away (and some actually WILL when they’re 47 and can’t stand the façade that they’re feet don’t hurt in those BCBG heels).
Don’t be that girl. Wear your Toms. Text your girls. Have a glass of Prosecco.