Any other way.

I sat in my car, inside my garage, trying to work up the will to come inside.

I'd have it another way.  Today.  Twice last week.  And, venturing a wild guess, at least one more time before this Friday hits.

Yes, I would absolutely have it any other way.

I know I'll get a lot of shaming.  A ton of private "how could you?!" messages.  My phone will blow up with you know you don't mean that's.  There will be plenty of complete strangers spouting all the reasons I'm a terrible person.  Lots of oh, you know you'd miss them!  

But if there's one thing I cannot be accused of - it's being a liar.  And, today, right now, in this moment, I would have it another way.

Every day is spent worrying and stressing and fighting and planning and scraping.  

How am I supposed to take one more freaking step?

Where am I going to come up with the money for it this time?

Stop the lying and the stealing and the nonsense!  Just act the way I've always raised you!

If I skip this meal, I can get them the better ___________.

And, I can't do it for one more second.  I cannot take one more step.  I can't.

I just need a breath.  One deep, cleansing, soul-freeing breath.  

I am drowning in an ocean of (mostly) my own making, and I cannot lie and say it's everything I ever wanted.  

I would rather make simple choices that won't make or break a person (or three).

I would love to be able to follow a dream rather than fake smile my way through another day.

I want to be free to make mistakes without dreading how it will effect everyone else.

I crave the idea of falling asleep without clutching fists and waking up without shaking off nightmares.

Those mothers - those beautiful, giving, nurturing, self-sacrificing mothers - who would have it no other way... They are not me.

I sat in my car inside the garage trying to work up the will to come inside my own house.  I listened to my youngest child knock on the car door, wondering what was going on.  And all I wanted, in those moments, was to back out of my garage, down the driveway, and straight to the nearest highway.

I would have it another way.  Not the best feeling I've ever put on paper, but certainly the truth.

Instead, I came inside.  Because that's what we do, right?  We carry on.  We suck it up.  We lie to ourselves.  We do it this way because this is the way we chose.

Because the alternative hurts them.  Because running isn't an option.  And that's why another way seems so glorious - it isn't really there.  There isn't actually any other way.

Oh, but if there was - in this moment - I would absolutely sign up.