On a piece of paper my life in the 30s looked pretty perfect.
I married my college sweetheart and graduated with an Ivy League PhD from the University of Cambridge.
We had two healthy, gorgeous kids, our own home and a multiple six-figure household income.
Why would one not be happy and walking on air?
Weren’t we raised to believe that this was what we wanted… money, love, wealth?
I had it all but couldn’t feel it.
The price for “having it all” was too high.
It had turned me into a successful powerhouse in the office wearing the mask of glory, yet at home, behind closed curtains, my kids’ tantrums, backtalk and attitudes would turn me into monster mommy.
My parenting was a constant power struggle, overshadowed by feelings of inadequacy and helplessness.
I wanted to do it right and raise happy kids, yet, there was more chaos than connection.
I was convinced it was my fault, because selfish-me wanted more and gave her best to the corporate world and left the rest of her to those she loved the most.