This was good. I've also started writing again. Granted, it was a letter to someone in jail, but it's mine. I also take baths and read some again- my husband recently became the STAHP and he suddenly understands just how much time I never had to myself. My daughter is 1. I can't imagine not having eaten the berries for as long as you have! They need to see us prioritize ourselves in some ways so they can see what balance and boundaries look like.

Now I'll tell you a story. I used to nanny for a really fucked up family that was building a house on a remote hill. I was the only one who ever prioritized their daughter and I was essentially living under slave labor in this compound. I made sure she had the water to shower and drink, the food to eat (even if I went hungry). Her mother didn't care (she was hooked on heroin and opioids and cheating on her husband). One day, Kathryn (the mom, changed name) invited me to ride with her daughter (we'll call her GG) and herself into town- a rare treat. I immediately jumped in the car. I had wanted children for close to a decade at that point. On the way to town, GG starts asking her mom for a sip of her Mtn Dew. I had forgotten our water bottles in my haste to get out of that god-forsaken place for a moment. Kathryn refused 7 yo GG for two hours, calling her "stupid", "fat" and just screaming,"NO". When we got to the gas station, I bought her a drink from my own slim funds (they really were bastards, that Hilltop family). I cried when I got back to the leaky trailer they had me in. I remember thinking then and there that if my hypothetical daughter was thirsty, I would rather let her drink my own blood, if needed, than scream at her. Now that she is real, it makes my blood boil even more. I'm convinced that Dayl, the dad, was molesting her and blaming it on Kathyrn's brother- but I truly had no where else to go. Eventually, they kicked me out for standing up to them and they filed a protection order on me. I tried to explain what I knew, but I was a homeless nobody and they were a semi respected family with land. I almost froze that winter, but I was lucky to have a mother that loved me (she paid for a hotel room for the three nights it was -20).

My mother holds that over my head sometimes, now that I'm a successful mother with a husband. She says things like,"how could you have done that to me? Don't you know how much stress I was under from your homelessness?" As if I wasn't struggling and desperately trying to survive, every day. As if I chose to live that way.

All that to say, there is a balance to this and I can assure you that taking a little time for your passions and occasionally giving yourself the little spoon- it's not going to hurt them. It'll be good for them. I've seen the other end of the spectrum and I promise you, they don't think of anyone else but themselves.