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"Perfect"

During the first few months of our marriage, my anxiety was through the roof.  There I was, a nineteen year old who had thrown myself into the adult world and was faced with responsibility that I very quickly realized I was not ready for.  After months of spaghetti for supper and a house that never felt clean enough, I reached a point where I felt worthless.  I would beat myself up for not being the "perfect" wife.  I measured perfection by how tall the pile of laundry was, how many times I cooked that week, and how dusty the base boards were.  Not only did I measure my wifely perfection by housework, I also measured it by how much money I brought into our household.  I saw the bills piling up and my husband working twelve hour shifts and I told myself I wasn't doing enough.  In four years I transitioned between seven different jobs hoping to find the one that made me feel as if I was enough.  I held myself to an unrealistic standard which in turn left me feeling inadequ…

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