I cried through yoga this morning. At the beginning, somewhere in the middle, and at the end.
Some days it's just me doing something good for my body. An effort to become physically stronger. Today it was literally the only thing that had no expectation from me. The only thing I felt like I'm getting better at instead of failing.
I've had a rough few days of just letting everything stressful in my life weigh me down. My house is a complete disaster. We're still fighting with CalAltantic/Lennar about the floor. I forgot to dry the clothes I put in the washer yesterday (and Tyler probably could have used some from that load today for work). Every single diaper change is a full on fight. When am I even going to find a few days to work on potty training? My daughter cries about everything and our efforts to correct behavior are not working. My husband's job drains him and we get what little is left, if anything, at the end of the day. I haven't picked up my camera and really made anything meaningful of my kids in probably over a month.
And so this morning when I was running late to yoga, still wearing what was left of yesterday's makeup, and quickly trying to get into the same pose everyone was already in, I leaned my body into the yoga blocks beneath my back and the instructor told the class to allow the mat and the blocks to completely support us. And that's when it hit me like a ton of bricks and I cried.
I wish I had something inspirational and uplifting to say, but I don't. Every moment isn't pretty. Motherhood isn't easy. Being a wife isn't easy. Sometimes days just suck and as much as I wish they didn't, I still want to feel those days so the good ones feel like the most amazing days. I don't want sympathy. I don't need anyone to feel sorry for me. I just want to be real because we all feel it.