2018.

This year was so so so hard for me. I was in the storm of postpartum depression and I had no clue where land was. I was so far from myself, my family and even my friends that some days I was barely functioning. I kept telling myself "it is going to get better", "once spring is here I will be okay", "this is just a really stressful time, it will pass". But I was lying. I was lying to myself, to Adam, to my kids, and to my friends. I was lost. 

But something changed (literally) last week. I was standing in my kitchen cooking dinner and I realized I could breathe.

I could hear my kids playing in the basement and it made me smile.

 I felt inspired and excited to be right where I was. 

I felt happy. 

In that moment I knew finally that I was going to be okay. I was getting better. 

I can't express how relived and overjoyed I am to feel like myself again but I also have to mourn/celebrate this past year. 

I say mourn because I wish I did better, I wish I got help, I wish I let people in. I wish I didn't cry so much and I wish I didn't yell at my children. I wish I didn't say those hurtful things to Adam. I wish I could have been a better wife, mom, daughter, friend, and employee. 

But I also want to celebrate that I continued to be courageous even when I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. 

I showed up for playdates when my anxiety made me what to stay home. I pursued a new career despite feeling scared of the unknowns. I confided in Adam my fears, worries, and dark thoughts. I apologized when I was wrong and I held my kids tight when they needed their momma the most. 

2018 was a hard year but I'm so grateful for time. 

Time to heal.

Time to restart.

Time to be present.