I’m not who I want to be.

I don’t look like her.

I don’t dress like her.

I don’t speak like her.

I don’t live like her.

I am not the mum she is.

I am not the wife she is.

I am not the friend she is.

I am not as smart as her.

I am definitely not as funny as her.

I am not as confident as she is.

I don’t fit into her clothes, much less her shoes.

 

Some days this is debilitating. Some days the frustration of how far from what I imagine I want to be is from what I see myself being overwhelms me, and causes an even greater chasm.

But I have to be. I have to breathe. I have to give myself permission to fail everyone in my life every day, or I will fail them even worse.

I do the best I can at each moment.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t dream that tomorrow will be different.

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