On a piece of paper my life in the 30s looked pretty perfect.<\/strong><\/p>\n\u2028\u2028I married my college sweetheart and graduated with an Ivy League PhD from the University of Cambridge.\u2028\u2028<\/strong><\/p>\nWe had two healthy, gorgeous kids, our own home and a multiple six-figure household income.\u2028\u2028<\/strong><\/p>\nWhy would one not be happy and walking on air?\u2028\u2028<\/strong><\/p>\nWeren\u2019t we raised to believe that this was what we wanted\u2026 money, love, wealth?<\/strong><\/p>\n\u2028\u2028I had it all but couldn\u2019t feel it.\u2028\u2028The price for \u201chaving it all\u201d was too high.\u2028\u2028<\/strong><\/p>\nIt had turned me into a successful powerhouse in the office wearing the mask of glory, yet at home, behind closed curtains, my kids\u2019 tantrums, backtalk and attitudes would turn me into monster mommy.\u2028\u2028<\/strong><\/p>\nMy parenting was a constant power struggle, overshadowed by feelings of inadequacy and helplessness.<\/strong><\/p>\n\u2028\u2028I wanted to do it right and raise happy kids, yet, there was more chaos than connection.<\/strong><\/p>\n\u2028\u2028I 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.<\/strong><\/p>\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t<\/section>\n\t\t\t\t