Will the Real Teresa Please Stand Up

So, I have begun my path on the road to recovery. To claw myself out of the depths of post-partum depression back to (hopefully) feeling like myself again. And as I say and think those words, I wonder, "What does that even mean?" The last time I remember feeling like myself was when I had no human being to rely on me to do that little task of sustaining their life. (I hope you're sensing the tone, cause there is one).

Who will emerge when the dust of hormones settle? What are the parts of me that I will choose to leave behind because they no longer fit as my new role as "mommy"? What will I keep? What will I hold onto, refusing to let go, kicking and screaming as God continues to refine me? And why does this refining process have to be so freaking painful?!?! Why can't refining be a comforting process that feels like getting a foot massage? Or as satisfying as eating toaster strudel? (which I'm officially off of, btw).


I knew that becoming a mom wouldn't be a walk in a field of daisies along calm streams and toaster strudel waiting for me at the end of the path (*sigh*), but I didn't expect the identity crisis.