I AM AN OVER-ACHIEVER.
There. I said it. The first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem, right? As far back as I can remember, I have had this “need to achieve.” I cannot really pinpoint when this need began, maybe because it has always been there. As a military spouse, I struggled during the early stages of our marriage with a need to find my place within our family dynamic. We said "I do" and then quickly found out that I was pregnant with our son. Within a two-week window, I was a new wife, soon-to-be-new mama and had to say goodbye to my husband for the first time. My husband had his place as the spiritual leader of our home and was providing a steady and solid income for our family. I had left college to get married and had no real “skills” to enter the work force. I walked into marriage completely unsure of who I was and what role I was supposed to play within our new life. As my husband found success and received praise from his coworkers and the upper chain of command, I found myself covered in spit up, longing for a hot shower and running off very large cups of coffee. My husband would come home from work after spending eight to ten hours on a boat in the scorching hot Florida sun and I longed to give him a smiling wife, a happy baby and a hot meal. The problem was, inside I felt dead. More than the “baby blues” or even postpartum depression, I felt a complete sense of lack. Here I was, a high school honor student who had been voted “Most Likely to Succeed” by her classmates and I had done nothing more than make a complete mess of my life. I had earned scholarship after scholarship to pay for my college, but my drive and desire to find fulfillment in the bars and the boys led to me living back in my parents’ house a mere year after moving out, and working a job for which I had no passion. I had hoped that getting married would fix all of my problems. Then, when we found out that we were having a baby I was certain that I would feel needed, wanted and appreciated because someone so tiny would have to need his mother, right? Wrong. I loved my son and adored my days with him, but eight hours into a day with a colicky baby who refused to nurse, suffered from every kind of stomach issue there was, and didn’t sleep left me feeling spent. I felt useless. The feelings of uselessness led me to feel like I was not of any value or importance to my family. I felt bitter and resentful. I was overwhelmed. I was over-burdened by the need to do it all. I had completely lost focus on who I was and where I had once been going. I was under the impression that being voted “Most Likely to Succeed” meant that I had to have a whole lot of money in the bank (which we didn’t), drive a big fancy car (which we didn’t), and own a large house (which we didn’t) that was always clean so that our families could come stay when they wanted to see their grandson. I looked around at my life and I felt like a failure. 13