So i hate my life. The happiest times of my life were when i was a student and then after that, when i worked on projects that were intellectually stimulating, traveled, enjoyed good food, enjoyed cooking good food, danced, went to museums, galleries, cinemas. I've been a mother now for 7 years, for the past 2 years i'm a mother of two kids, and i hate it. I resent that i have no time for anything other than being a housewife, i resent my husband for working while all i do is cook, clean, spend time with kids doing stupid kid stuff, trying my best to hide my mood from them, to fake a smile, to fake enthusiasm, to cover my disgust at always being touched and on. I went from a really intellectually stimulating university environment and was emotionally not mature enough to know how to handle it, then worked on wonderful projects, but those projects didn't cover the expenses of living, so i joined my husband in his line of work, which is so much less demanding but so much more appreciated and we became rich by my standards, thought the job was not fulfilling as my projects were, and then i stepped another step down with having kids. Because the youngest was always ill, she's been home since January, then this fucking pandemic came, and here we are, half a year in, with me not working. That is, i do work all the time, but i cook, clean, tend to the garden, pick the fruit and make jams and syrups and jellies and breastfeed all the freaking time, including nights, and take care of the whining 7-year-old and worry about him, and he just sucks all the energy out of me and i resent him for that, for taking all my attention, for being so goddamn needy, i don't have enough time for my two year old. Today when he was whining why he has to pick raspberries with me, i became verbally abusive. I told him not to have kids, i told him i regret having kids, i told him it freaking sucks. I fantasise of causing him harm when he snuggles close to me. Just let me breathe! Let me be alone for one day, please, so i can be off. One day of caring only for my neglected needs. I hate myself for being a kept woman now, for being this reduced version of me. For not living up to my potential. For taking it out on my beautiful kid. It's not his fault his mom is unhappy. And i try so hard to be better, to work on my triggers, but it's all just pretending, isn't it? Pretending to be "the best version of me". The best version of me ... what a joke. I went into languages, but i miss math. I miss the problem solving, i miss cracking the examples and coming up with my own methods. Now i'm just a dumbed down version of me with memories and understanding it all could have been different had i not had a controlling mother who pushed me to study something she herself never finished. I vowed not to be like her, i was even quite good at it for 5 years, but the last two years had been horrible. And not because of the younger, she's a delight, but because of the older soul-sucking fucker who's constantly complaining, can't do anything for himself, needs constant company ... and because i let another person drain me emotionally for two years. I hate complaining here about it now, as tear run down my stupid baby face. People think i'm in my early 20's and i'm actually double that number, i have trouble getting up from bed in the morning, i don't have the will or the time or both to exercise and carrying kids around. And the fact i'm constantly being judged. I just want out. I want to leave this life and go back to my adult life pre-kids. And then writing this out is absolutely horrifying, i don't want anything bad to happen to them (even though i'm the bad thing happening to the older one), but being a stay at home mother sucks. I am not that woman. I don't want to be that woman. And yet here we are. The ungrateful woman. I just want a few hours to do some intellectually stimulating work and then see my kids and be a mom. I want to be a father. That would be nice, being a father. Working, having a sense of competency, having home-cooked meals on the table (truffle-babka for breakfast anyone? i did one today), not having to think about all the kindergarten and school related day-in, day-out activities and has-to's, just showing up when my wife told me to. And here's where i begin to feel ungrateful. Because my husband does do all the work that actually gets paid, plus the laundry and most of the time the dishes. I'm living of off his salary. Technically he employed me, so i still get salary. And i resent that. My money feels like a handout. And i feel guilty for resenting him that. Maybe i should just be a cleaning lady, get out of the house and bring my own money in. And than i resent myself for finding that job beneath me, though currently i found no jobs in my working field. It is not exactly intellectually stimulating to be a cleaning lady. And then i resent myself for being a snob. And a crybaby. And a fucking victim. I need sleep. I haven't slept a whole night through in two years and two weeks. I wake up tired. I call going to sleep "my night job". And by the time it gets to be closer to the morning, i'm so tired from my night job i can't wait for the day to begin. Yesterday i forced myself to show happiness on my face in the morning and 7 was so much easier to deal with, a lot less whining. Then a whole day happened with me stretching myself too thin and today i told him i regretted having kids. So i might be working on my triggers and trying to meditate and change and all that shit, but maybe i should just accept that i am a bad mother. Maybe not as bad, yet, as my mother was, but give me time. I'm sure i'll drive them both away with my immaturity. I want to work. And i want to sleep. And i want to enjoy both of my kids. And i want some time to myself. And i want to be able to provide for myself. I feel useless. And i want to enjoy doing nothing. I do do nothing, but i feel guilty doing nothing. I should be improving myself. I should be working on my psychological well-being. I should be exercising. I should be eating better. I have all the tools to do all those things, but i don't do them anymore. Not consistantly.