If you know me in real life, please understand that making this public is very hard for me and that I may not actually want to talk about this in person. You’re welcome to try to talk to me about it, but don’t be surprised or offended if I don’t respond in-depth.
If you’re just joining me, you can read part 1 here.
Twelve years into my marriage (2011), life seemed like it should be great. After all, I had everything I’d dreamed of my whole life. I was a work-at-home mom with a husband and children I dearly loved. I had two online businesses, taught piano, played and sang regularly for church, and did all the other requisite “mom” things. Until two years ago, I also home schooled our three girls.
I cannot tell you how many people told me, both in person and online, “Wow! You are incredible! How do you do it all? You must be SuperMom!”
Whenever those comments would be made, I’d hastily point out that I don’t do it all, that I’m constantly juggling balls and waiting for the crash, and that, in fact, the SuperMom persona people applied to me was so totally not my reality. Inside, I constantly felt like I was holding on for dear life but that inevitably I’d have to let go and fall. I felt like I was a complete and utter failure, that no matter what I did, it was never good enough. That I could never live up to everyone’s expectations for me. That I was such a miserable human being that everyone (husband, kids, family, friends, clients, anyone who ever met me) must be disappointed in me and secretly scorn me for being such a failure.
Although my feelings were very dark, I thought they were normal feelings that everyone else experienced and lived with, too. I figured if everyone else in the world managed to push through the feelings of despair and failure, I should be able to as well. It didn’t matter that I’d felt that way since before I was a teenager. It didn’t matter that I’d often think everyone would be better off if I no longer existed to screw up their lives.
I hid my feelings with a smile and laughter, always trying to do better, be better, change myself – always trying to meet the expectations I believed I should be meeting.
Until the time came when my secret despair became more than I could handle.
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