I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for five years. Unable to fully inhale or exhale. Scared that if I do I might explode.

I’m not sure when I reached my breaking point, but it happened for a long list of reasons. I’m a stay-at-home mom to two kids under five, I have a husband who travels for work and is gone all the time, and I don’t have any family close by. I had a baby during COVID-19 and that was a whirlwind. (To be honest, I think I’m still recovering from that one.) We sold our house, moved into an apartment for what was supposed to be six to eight months that turned into 21 months, and built a house (without killing anyone, surprisingly) in the process.

I’ve been treading water just to stay alive instead of swimming.

And that takes its toll. It’s hard to be “ON” all day every day for days at a time, much less years. I’ve been the primary parent, carried the mental load of my family, and hardly had any breaks for five years. And I reached a point where I couldn’t do it anymore.

I needed air.

Y’all, I love my kids, I love my husband, and I’m proud of the life we’ve built. I’m not complaining about circumstances or whining about life. I’m trying to paint a picture of the reality that so many stay-at-home moms face. I was depressed.

I thought that being a stay-at-home mom was going to be easy and breezy. I thought I was going to make my kids three square meals a day, teach them their ABCs, be the first one in the preschool pick-up line, sign up for arts and crafts, and meet my husband at the door with a hug and a kiss every day when he came home from work.

EL. OH. EL.

None of that happened. Well, maybe occasionally some of those things happened, but it wasn’t real life. The mother picture I painted for myself wasn’t me.

And it took me five years (plus some therapy) to realize that.

Head on over to Knoxville Moms to read the rest of the story.