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I'm not the mother I want to be

This wasn't who I wanted to be. My only dream was to be a mother. When I finally was I wanted to be a better mother than I had. When my daughter was born I was that mum. Despite having postnatal depression, which looking back now was fairly minor, I played, I read books, breastfed. I was responsive. Even when she wouldn't settle I never felt angry. When she was a toddler I never shouted. I cried and I was anxious and tired but even when our son was born I was still patient and not at all shouty. Looking back I can pinpoint a change. It was a few months after going back to work from my 2nd maternity leave. I left the job I had been in for 5 years. We were a small and supportive team which had comprised of the same six people for 4 years. 5 women in their 40s and 22 year old me. Just weeks after returning I was persuaded (threatened my job was being phased out) to begin further study. It would result in the job I had wanted since my first year of nursing. It wasn't ideal timing but how hard could it be? Shockingly hard. Studying, a bully for a personal tutor and a much longer commute. Expectations that your family must come second. Repetitive use of the phrase "we will strip you bare then start again!" Things started to slip. I started to become frustrated more easily. The disappointment that a job I loved I just couldn't cope with, the anxiety about missing something. Over the 3 years that followed the pressure increased. I still dearly missed my team. The team didn't even exist anymore. I was working more hours than I had since the birth of my first child. I was working from home most evenings. It happened gradually but I'm sure it started back then. I started having to raise my voice. Make threats to take away toys, ban tv. I even started banishing to bedrooms. Very little was left of my chosen parenting style. Even when I left work the damage was done. Habits have formed and most nights end with one or other child pushing the boundaries until I snap and shout. They usually cry. I tend to say sorry. I go downstairs and cry and pray tomorrow I'll do better. I never do. I look back and think how I nag. How I don't phrase my sentences to challenge behaviour rather than character. I think how I am damaging their self esteem, their self worth. My mother never shouted. She never did much at all. She was very passive. Look at me. What an earth will my kids end up saying to their therapist? This wasn't how I thought it would be. This isn't how I want it to be. I'm not the right person for this job. I love them. I want them to grow up confident. Happy. Not anything like me. I can't help them do that.
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