Writing For y’all dumbasses fixing to come in my comments with “Well, you chose to have all those kids” or “Where’s your family?” — let me explain something REAL quick. IT IS ME AND MY HUSBAND. THAT'S IT. No sick days. No backup plan. No dropping the kids off at Grandma’s house. No Uncle Ricky wanting to spend the weekend with them. No Aunt Shelby or Aunt Jessica’s house to run to when life gets hard. I have TWO blood sisters who have never even met my children. A brother in prison. And absolutely ZERO blood family I can pick up the phone and call when shit hits the fan. Why? Because I was the black sheep. The bitch. The difficult one. Because I didn't think family get-togethers should involve people being high or selling Xanax in the fucking parking lot. Because I had boundaries. Because I wanted something different for my children. And apparently that meant doing life without a village. So yeah, I'M PISSED. I'm pissed that I can barely walk, I'm in so much pain I'm physically sick, and getting medical attention has to be scheduled around work, bills, childcare, and everybody else's plans. I'm pissed that I have to be strong every single fucking day. I love my kids. I'd choose them a million times over. But choosing to be a mother didn't mean I agreed to never need help again. Sometimes I want to be the soft girl. The one who gets taken care of. The one who can be sick without worrying about how the mortgage is getting paid or who's watching the babies. I don't want to be the strong one all the damn time. And before somebody tells me how they'd handle my situation, ask yourself when the last time was that you had absolutely NOBODY to call. Because there's a difference between being independent and being completely fucking alone. Just because I CAN handle everything doesn't mean I should HAVE TO. - @tankedbykrissy