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I Never Knew Being A Parent Would Be So Hard For You... Hi, my name is Kate and I am 36 years old and I'm having a serious loss of identity situation. Or just a little sadness post-partum. And maybe I am just exhausted, mentally drained and overweight. Nobody asks what.

I've got three girls, a friend, a house and I love a job. I'm extremely lucky. Throughout my life I dedicated my life to people. And again, I'm glad to be doing it several days. But I don't feel this way for some days, some weeks. I look in the mirror, and no longer recognize myself. And that is really frightening when I reach middle ages.

It's not that I just need to look old. It's that I feel as if I don't really know anyone. I just feel fatigued. I just feel like I let go of myself. I feel mad. I feel very rushed. Rushed to bathe in. Rushed for bread. Rushed over to the stoplights. Rushed and fell at pick-up. Rushed onto the table to have dinner.

In Target also raced. Rushed to write this out because a baby is screaming, and in 11 minutes one comes off the plane. And probably that cannot be me. Hurried. I'm typically unrattled. I'm the one who can deal with anything. The mummy kid. Mom requires special needs. The one to be satisfied.

I feel guilty for not functioning when I'm with my kids and when I'm busy I feel guilty for not playing for my kids any more. Often, it is a fail. I sound like I lost my life. I look like a housekeeper, a chef, a ringleader and a chauffeur. I sound like I always have children who are ill, so I can't finish the washing or fit my body part into my tight jeans. I think I'm a really good mother.

I have no reservations about myself in this section. But at times I still feel like everything that I am is a wife. I feel like I'm missing out on nothing. I am surprised several days by what upsets me. I didn't know that I could be jealous of my husband just wanting to go on his own.

He's going to be in the shower, on his cell and I'm going to get angry. I'll shout for him to hurry up while one kid weeps, the other one needs to be fed and the phone rings. My husband and I drew straws the other day to decide who should go upstairs to wash the pee pads. Because it meant purely 5 minutes. I missed. I lost.

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