I write

I write to find answers.

Because mothers rarely have time to connect.  Friendships are not easy.  Time is scarce.  Quiet time to talk on the phone is non-existent.  The days are for work, the afternoons are for family.  And this is the life of all my friends.

So the computer is my shrink and my words are my drug.  I send them out there in hopes that someone will hear my voice becuause I feel as if I have none.

This strong, able woman is drowning in life and unsure what can save me or if I want to be saved from this life that I have chosen.

My words are bleak, but do not read into them.  I love my kids and would never abandon them but I am just so tired of being strong and holding everyone and everything together.  Of being responsible.  Of having all the answers.  Of not being able to hide.  Of not being able to find quiet.  Of not being heard.

The exhaustion has no end.  Because as soon as my head sleeps on the pillow a new day is here with the same demands and new demands and old tantrums and new tantrums.  And as I rush to keep up and as I strategize to avoid new disasters I continue to lose myself.  Lose myself in being mommy.