Punching Bag

Maybe I'm an easy target. I'm certainly imperfect and flawed - perhaps more than I've ever been. I don't always say the right things- I've got a bad combination of grief brain, mommy brain, and pregnancy brain. I'm emotional - still very much climbing my way out of the deepest, darkest hole you can imagine. I know you find my emotions and grief frustrating. I am learning not to come to you when I'm feeling anxious, sad, or bereft. I am doing my best to put on my cool, calm and collected face for you - even though I'm none of those things. And still, somehow, I continue to feel like your punching bag. I am asking you to stop - and consider that I might be more sensitive than most - and, embarrassingly, more defensive than most as well. Try to muster up your most empathetic self - please - I'm fragile - and if you love me, you'll treat me kindly, you'll give me a pass, you'll let me make mistakes while I navigate this new life I have. Stop treating me like your punching bag. Please. One more punch might break me.

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