You talk about how far I’ve gone, I dont clean like I used to, I dont cook like I used to. I don’t even play or love like I used to. But why is how far I’ve fallen all you can see?

Why do you always talk about these things like they just happened overnight? Why do you complain about me as if this weren’t the result of something larger? Is there truly something wrong with me? Do I not deserve the same love and patience?

I’m cleaning more now, see? Why haven’t you noticed? Im playing with the kids, cooking their favorite meals, and shopping. Will it never be enough?

I can feel your families eyes on me, its hard not to notice your sisters rolling their eyes. Was it something I said? Or something you told them?

I can feel the shackles trying to form, fastening themselves out of paranoia and low self-worth. I feel desperate, I want them to like me. I want them to see that I’m improving, so I talk about all the things I got done this week, proudly boasting that I cleaned the living room and about all the fancy dinners. As if it’s anything to brag about at all. The looks on their faces tell me its not.

I hesitate when silence breaks the conversation and smile when my niece giggles. I ask to hold her.

“She’s a little grumpy today,” your sister says and gives her to your Mom a few moments later. Do they think I don’t notice?

“You know, I’m home all the time these days. I could help watch her anytime,” I keep trying.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, but the look on her face says it won’t happen in a million years.

When will it stop being about how far I’ve fallen? How much have you complained about me? Why can’t they see this didn’t just happen, I didn’t just break. I was broken. And still, I’m trying. I AM getting better. Instead of talking about my struggles, why can’t you support me and talk about my triumphs?

I’m sorry, it takes me a while to process these things. I write about this small blip even as it happened months ago. I never knew what it meant to me.