on growing into myself

I have always been good in taking on roles and acting according to it.
Somehow in the last years I have started to take on the role as wife and mother.
I am doing it good, even well. But underneath it all it's so uncomfortable. I forgot that inside it's still me.

Inside, there is this girl, afraid. Not knowing what to do. Not the responsible, confident adult you meet in the streets, walking her kids to appointments and errands.

The girl is afraid, unstable, unable to come up for air or cry for help. The real me, that got shut down, because there is only room for one of us.
But sometimes the real me surfaces and does what it knows what to do in situations like that when people become so close and attached it hurts and tangles and gets messy. I pack my things and run, I pick fights.

There has been a lot of fighting about things I can not control. Although I don't want to leave, I feel I have to get away in order to stay me. To keep me alive, not just the role of me.
It's hard to feel like this, when no one even understands that things like that happen. And it's hard because it is so twisted in a way I don't know if it's healthy. But how can't it be, if it is what I need?

I feel trapped in this life with only room for my role rather than the real me. My husband is wondering what is going on. I am figuring it out. I am trying to be the girl that is okay with only having two kids instead of a big family she always imagined and dreamed of. The one, who feels like she isn't even able to move on from babies and toddlerhood. The one who is terrified of moving on because babies and toddlerhood feels like safe water. The carousel keeps turning and the years slip by, so I have to move on even when I don't know what I am doing.

This place inside of me is lonely. The girl in me is lonely.
I am working on loving and holding her and taking care of her.

It's hard to let it all coexist. To figure it out without even knowing where to start.