This is not me. This person sitting here at the computer, listening to her children getting into Daddy's tools and creating new uses for them, is not me.
I am carefree, independant, wealthy and happy. I am someone who never loses their temper at the kids. I have a perfectly spotless home, smelling of fresh flowers and delicious dinner that will be ready at precisely the moment my husband walks through the door. I enjoy reading, writing, and I never ever yell at my dog. I do not have an eye twitch. Under no circumstances do I feel a crushing weight in my chest when I feel I cannot take another minute, because I never ever feel like I cannot take another minute. Everything I need is in exactly the spot I need it so I can always find it. I always have a stocked pantry and freezer because I am well organized and ahead of the needs of my family. I most certainly am not the woman sitting here, with hardly any food in the house and a headache from telling the kids repeatedly to not play with the printer. I am not this girl, who feels like she is the only girl on the planet to not have it all together. I am not this person sitting here, typing this, on the verge of tears because for the 4th time this week everything is coming apart at the seams, feeling like a failure as a mother yet again. I'm not her.
I don't know who she is.