The Perfect Mommy

Sometimes I feel like my head
is going to explode from all the thoughts
that are swimming around in it.

Sometimes I wonder what life would have been like
had I gone to
there instead of here.

Sometimes I wonder
if people really understand how difficult life can be
for someone like me.

Queen of The Perfect Mommies
That’s what she called me.
Nice clothes
Perfect hair
Clean house
Smile on my face
Is that what they see?
Well, then they
don’t
see
me.

Sometimes I want to leave my house unkempt
my kids’ faces dirty
and my hair uncombed
so everyone can stop assuming that I have it all together
that I’ve figured it all out
and that I am a machine that keeps on going
like a terminator.
I want to scream
“I NEED HELP TOO.”

Sometimes I want to remind people
that selflessness and humility
are two of the most important traits an individual can possess.

Sometimes I feel like I am wearing a mask in
every
aspect
of
my life.

Sometimes I feel so lonely it hurts.

Sometimes I get so down
on myself
I have to pull my soul back
from the depths of hell
to go on.

Sometimes I remember that my sadness is there
right beneath the surface
bubbling and brewing
Threatening to come out.

Sometimes I can put it away
sometimes I cannot.

Sometimes I wish I were more straightforward.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t need people’s approval
so much.

Sometimes I feel like I’ve only truly been awake
for the last five years.

Sometimes I wonder who I was
before my children.

Sometimes I wish I didn’t care what people think of me.

Sometimes I like to be depressed
The achy
weepy
brooding
feeling is a familiar and welcoming one.
It knows me better than anyone.

Sometimes I wonder if there is a God who is listening
I wonder if my dad is with Him.

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be complete.
Will the questions ever cease?

Sometimes I question my truth
and sometimes I find the answer.

Sometimes I get even more confused.

Sometimes parenting my children
is so hard
that I get down on my knees
and pray
for strength and peace.

Sometimes I wish I could turn back the clock
and have my son
as a newborn once more.

Sometimes I close my eyes
and can smell my dad’s cologne
and hear his deep voice.

Sometimes my past haunts me.

Sometimes I can let go. Sometimes I can’t.

Only sometimes.