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The beginning of something.

I don’t want to say it’s hard anymore. Because we all know that and the people who can’t say it will never be able to say it out loud. Let’s stop living for the inability to say it out loud.

PARENTING IS FUCKING HARD.

There.

The first part is so brutal it’s funny and that’s why we laugh. Because brutality can only be made tolerable by humor. The degradation of your spirit in between sharing a new joke about how some people are probably being paid to be urinated on and they could come to your house for free. (rimshot)

And it’s all true. Every single bit of it. You should not feel guilty. Do you hear me? Do not ever feel guilty for wanting to run away or take a lover while you have circle shaped milk stains on a 1/2 marathon shirt (and you’ve never even run a 5K). Guilt is useless.

Then there’s the whole idea that you should be more thankful. Like you aren’t already. Like you’ve forgotten to donate a piece of every moment to gratitude. No one ever forgets. How could you forget when you watch and listen to stories about death. You stop. You smell the tops of their heads. And those moments don’t make it any less hard.

But when hard changes to a softer sharp, we forget how to reach out….like there can only be dying and living. There is often purgatory.

Stuck between a rock and a soft place.

Not able to say it’s getting better and not willing to let go of the claw-like grasp of hard. We don’t feel like we deserve easy. What have we done to deserve easy? Especially when we complained so often about the hard.

But we do. You do deserve the calm. And you do deserve the subtle ripples of water on your toes from the same water that once knocked you flat.

It’s ok to say it’s easier….it doesn’t negate the hard.

“Must be nice!”, some will sneer.

And it is. It really is. You can enjoy it. It’s ok.

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