An Utterly Autobiographical Rant About Motherhood and Other Stuff

"I understand how you feel. All of us are overwhelmed sometimes. We are all stressed out sometimes."

YOU DON'T HAVE A FUCKING CLUE HOW I FEEL.

Sometimes I can't breathe. Sometimes I can't move. Sometimes I can't bear the touch of tiny hands on my arm. Or any other hands anywhere else.

Do you know the weight of three small children on your shoulders? 35 kilograms. 77 pounds. It's the weight of a universe. A helpless universe waiting to learn from you how to live. It pushes you into the ground, gravity's innocent helper. Am I grounded? Fucking A. Not that I want to be.

I am begleitet. Accompagné. I am never alone. They haunt me but are not ghosts. They are real. Calling the exorcist will not help.

Personal space? ...huh?... Not a real thing. They hover, they cower, they scrabble, they strangle. They insert and they expect. I don't know how long there will be room for me in this space.

DO YOU FEEL THIS OFTEN? Then maybe we can sit down and talk about it. If not, shut the fuck up and mind your own business.