I Am A Mess
You're a mess. Those were the words spoken to me 10 years ago by someone I loved and trusted. A friend. I was a young mom of just 27, with 2 toddlers and a husband who worked shift work. I was stressed out, with anxiety and insomnia, and had recently moved provinces where we had to start all over again. I had left the only home I had ever known. I was desperate for friends. I was desperate to be accepted. I was desperate for help, any kind of help, which left me in a very vulnerable state. I met someone who I thought had it all figured out. She seemed like the perfect wife and mother, and oh how I longed to be like her. So, I tried. I tried and I tried, and I just kept failing. Then one day, I'll never forget it, she called me up for a very real and raw conversation and said, "Sara, you're a mess!" My heart sank. She didn't say it playfully. She didn't say it lovingly. It was a harsh slap in the face, only confirming what I already thought about myself.
