The struggle is so fucking real, man.

Is it possible to have post-partum depression 21 months after giving birth? Because things in my head haven't been all that great lately. It's probably not PPD; it's probably just the fact that parenthood is HARD AS FUCK. The balancing act of wearing multiple hats--mom, wife, friend, daughter, employee--is taking its toll. I feel like I'm in a place right now where real issues are possibly being mistaken for just the natural rut that most people my age may find themselves in on any average day. Nothing prepared me for motherhood. And while I'm so in love with my kiddo and wouldn't trade him for the world, the small (and large) adjustments I've had to make in my life have added up to a mountain that I have trouble climbing sometimes.

Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that no matter how rosy those pics of people and their families on IG and Facebook appear, they, too, have probably felt the same way I feel now. I am certainly guilty of comparing myself to others based on their life reports from their social media. I know that people out there are so much better equipped to handle stress and anxiety than I am, and I'm learning to accept my weaknesses as a mother, wife and human.

I'm constantly asking myself "am I doing enough?" Am I remembering to touch base with my friends? Did I remember to text a dear friend to see how she's coping with a stressful life event? Am I checking in with my pregnant friend/family member enough and being as supportive to them as they were to me when I was pregnant? Am I giving enough attention to my marriage? How many times this week did I unnecessarily snap at my husband? Did I thank him for making dinner last night? Is my son spending enough time with his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins? Is he getting enough quality experiences each day? Is his diet balanced? Am I giving the pets enough attention? Am I letting my life interfere with my job? (other than being late to work every single day)

Being a mom, a wife--a human--is difficult and exhausting, and the struggle is, indeed, real. But man, I'm so fucking lucky for everything I have. Every day I get to spend with people I love is such a privilege, and this is what I have to remind myself of, even when I'm having the hardest of days. Things can always be worse. Case in point: a co-worker recently lost her son, her firstborn. He was older; early 40s. Not that that matters; the pain and anguish to go through losing a child has no age limit. So each day I get to hold my boy, kiss my husband, have a drink with dear friends makes the stress and anxiety just a little easier. I do hope to seek professional therapy in the near future. My personality and impulsivity don't always make for the best of coping skills. I'd like to learn how to channel some of this stress into a positive outcome, and I feel like I'll need more help figuring that out.