sort-of

I'm a lot like this sort-of beautiful hydrangea. From a distance, in my grandpa's backyard, this one has it all together in the midst of a messy world. Upon closer inspection one sees all that icky brown dead stuff that will never be alive. How I long to be perfect and whole, and yet the more I long for that the less obtainable it seems. I have such a low frustration tolerance and respond so negatively at times to my family. I use addictive behaviors to cope with daily trials. I succumb to depression so easily. "Wretched [wo]man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?"
Really what makes it so big for me is that I affect my children so greatly. They deserve better. Who will save my children from this monster mama?