I often wonder how we, as women, survive. I know that I am not unusual, but I spend the majority of my time worrying about what I have to do, longing to do the things I want to do, and guilting myself out when I don’t get things done, because I was doing what I wanted to do for myself.
Why do we do this to ourselves? Life is complicated enough without adding more and more layers of complexities. Somehow, society has painted a picture of what the perfect woman should be. She should be able to bring home the bacon, fry it up in a pan, and never let her husband forget he is a man. Then we are supposed to be super moms, giving our children everything we didn’t have when we were children.