{"id":3186,"date":"2015-10-09T15:26:44","date_gmt":"2015-10-09T14:26:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/omily.me\/?p=3186"},"modified":"2015-10-09T15:26:44","modified_gmt":"2015-10-09T14:26:44","slug":"hier-niet-voor-gemaakt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/omily.me\/en\/hier-niet-voor-gemaakt\/","title":{"rendered":"Not made for this?"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

\n

\"abmama\"<\/a><\/p>\n

And so in my head, I renamed Village Gabri?l into Village Struggle, because that’s what it was on most days.<\/p>\n

Life was a struggle, wanting all things. I wanted to be a mom, and I wanted to fly back and not have to be someone’s source of food. Why me?
\nWhy does Mike get to walk out the door and I’m stuck here with two living little things who don’t care whether I slept or not and whether I had plans or not?<\/p>\n

Mike walking out the door was, to me, the equivalent to a movie star walking on the red carpet. Glamour, fun, happiness. (Because sitting behind a desk all day long, working on a computer, with potentially frustrating co-workers and deadlines and work overloads, is everyone’s dream occupation. Obviously.
\nMy life was equal to…a great big desert. With no trees. Only rain. I know, a desert with rain is probably not a desert. But I’m not known to be very rational when I’m feeling depressed.<\/p>\n

These two little humans?
\nRelentlessly claiming my energy and my time and attention.<\/p>\n

I wanted to do so much and I had so many ideas! Or actually …skip the ideas. If I could get even just the housework done, that would be partially great.
\nIf I’m a stay-at-home mom, shouldn’t I at the very,very least be able to keep my house cleaned up, be caught up on laundry and cook good and healthy meals?I couldn’t do this so therefore I sucked at being a mom. I didn’t fit in very well in this new land. It seemed everyone else knew this language of being a mom, was happy in it, figured out how they wanted to do it. They were profici?nt. I know. A big word. All of the other moms were big words and knew big words and used big words.<\/p>\n

I should have never come here!
\nEveryone back home was still ambitiously doing things, moving on. Or ?to the Land of the Free. And everyone here in this land of Motherhood, was happy, had figured out their life. They were either good housekeepers or good business people with daycare dropoffs or something in between and they were all good at what they did. Their stories were nicer then mine. (again, full of the glamour).<\/p>\n

I had thought I would feel the truth of the cliche ‘raising children is the most important thing’.
\nI so didn’t feel it.<\/p>\n

My favorite verse was ‘All my springs of joy are in You’, and I wanted it to be like that.
\nIt so wasn’t.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n
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This post is part of a series:<\/a><\/div>\n
?<\/a><\/div>\n
\"compassion-bloggers-motherhood\"<\/a><\/div>\n

<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<\/p>\n

And so in my head, I renamed Village Gabri?l into Village Struggle, because that’s what it was on most days.<\/p>\n

Life was a struggle, wanting all things. I wanted to be a mom, and I wanted to fly back and not have to be someone’s source of food. Why me? Why does Mike get to walk out the door and I’m stuck here with two living little things who don’t care whether I slept or not and whether I had plans or not?<\/p>\n

Mike walking out the door was, to me, the equivalent to a movie star walking on the red carpet. Glamour, fun, happiness. (Because sitting behind a desk all day long, working on a computer, with potentially frustrating co-workers and deadlines and work overloads, is everyone’s dream occupation. Obviously. My life was equal to…a great big desert. With no trees. Only rain. I know, a desert with rain is probably not a desert. But I’m not known to be very rational when I’m feeling depressed.<\/p>\n

These two little humans? Relentlessly claiming my energy and my time and attention.<\/p>\n

I wanted to do so much and I had so many ideas! Or actually …skip the ideas. If […]<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[112,140,115],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\nHier niet voor gemaakt?Not made for this? - Omily<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"noindex, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Hier niet voor gemaakt?Not made for this? - Omily\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"And so in my head, I renamed Village Gabri?l into Village Struggle, because that’s what it was on most days. Life was a struggle, wanting all things. I wanted to be a mom, and I wanted to fly back and not have to be someone’s source of food. Why me? Why does Mike get to walk out the door and I’m stuck here with two living little things who don’t care whether I slept or not and whether I had plans or not? Mike walking out the door was, to me, the equivalent to a movie star walking on the red carpet. Glamour, fun, happiness. (Because sitting behind a desk all day long, working on a computer, with potentially frustrating co-workers and deadlines and work overloads, is everyone’s dream occupation. Obviously. My life was equal to…a great big desert. With no trees. Only rain. I know, a desert with rain is probably not a desert. But I’m not known to be very rational when I’m feeling depressed. These two little humans? Relentlessly claiming my energy and my time and attention. I wanted to do so much and I had so many ideas! Or actually …skip the ideas. 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