I never thought about the duration of training - I signed up only for those I wanted, when I wanted. I used to make appointments whenever there were openings, I didn't need to ask anyone — my roots were always in good condition.
I weighed less, and my dress sizes were much smaller. We didn’t sleep so long that we watched TV shows, and sometimes we sat on the couch for hours on weekends. I finished the books I started, I finished the conversations, and I finished the thoughts in my brain.
I got up in the morning and took a shower, put on my clothes, combed my hair, put on "real" clothes and went to work. My husband and I were planning funny weekend adventures that only he and I had to agree on.
I had dreams and goals and a vision of my life. And creating a family was one of them.
I had my first child five years ago. Then, after two years with our daughter, we welcomed the other daughter. Then two years later we greeted the other. (We were busy.) Five years passed, and suddenly, after reading this quote on Integram, I felt that the wind would blow me away.
I have a feeling that the woman I was before I became a mother is the one I know, but I don’t know her very well - she’s rather familiar. Honestly, I really need to think to remember what it was like to be her.
I think it’s because I’ve been in the trenches for the past five years. I'm down here, under packs of diapers and bed linen, preschool documents, medical appointments, nursing lessons, boxes of toys, toilet bags and everything else. All motherhood.
I'm here, and the name "mom" is heavy on my shoulders. It was so hard for me that I could not get out of this ditch. Or did I just not work so much? I lived in chaos and felt depressed to try.
But I must. Because this woman is important. She is really important to me.
I keep thinking about taking care of myself - go to bed and sleep more, talk to a therapist, work through a few things, plan funny dates, have lunch with my friends When I play sports - when I do something that makes me ego I somehow go back to myself. I will remember more easily.
And I do not know if this is necessarily true. I do not know if I can ever recognize her again. Not like before. But I think that part of the process of digging trenches is to get used to this fact - no longer feel that way. Because I'm not here anymore.
Instead, it’s about getting acquainted with my new version - not with the version before the mother or with the new mother, but with a version that understands that they have lost a little in this big, beautiful, chaotic life.
I survived. I managed to get through it. But I deserve more, so I will create more, receive more, believe in more. I work - and this is worth taking care of.
So, I will dig by bit. I try a new yoga class or plan a weekend with my husband. I try new hobbies and spend time with friends who make me feel like the best version of me. I will keep a diary and meditate, focusing on personal growth.
My final promise for myself:
• I will not be little my feelings.
• I will treat your dreams with respect.
• I will forgive myself if I make mistakes.
• I will not try to do anything.
• I will allow myself to be vulnerable enough to accept help.
• I will be gentle, kind and attentive to myself.
I will remember that I am very important for three tiny people and one person who love me the way I am.