Other people do not erupt into tears at 9:15pm, having just put their toddler to bed and closing the door behind them, turn to see their kitchen that was clean this afternoon in utter disarray.
Other people do not feel too exhausted to do anything about it.
Other people love their husbands. They do not doubt if marriage is something they want to be a part of. They are happy. They have sex.
Other people do not, after a long day of social interactions with family and friends, say to their spouse I am going to go in the other room to be by myself for a while instead of spending time with you.
Other people do not feel the need to take a vacation from their life.
Other people do not fantasize about being able to get up in the morning and not have anyone to talk to or to have just one night of uninterrupted sleep.
Other people do not think about throwing their dirty clothes or dishes or anything left lying around for too long in the trash instead of cleaning and/or putting it away.
Other people can quit drinking coffee and not have headaches that make them sick to their stomach and ready to tear the face off of anyone who might dare tease them about anything that on another day they would find funny.
Other people don’t make themselves feel inadequate by comparing themselves to other people who would theoretically do a better job at handling their life than they do…
But apparently I do, and sometimes I think that it is not what I feel that is the most difficult to reconcile but rather the idea that someone else wouldn’t -and therefore I shouldn’t- feel this way that is really soul-crushing.
Other people may very well do this –as in life as a mother/wife/student- better, but they are not me, and I don’t know where that leaves me.