Why is my reflection someone, I don't know.

Before : 

This is me before. I've always thought of myself as pretty, nothing spectacular. Just a fortunate face with a hard earned body. Add in the tan and long hair and wahla. That was me. I never really struggled with my body image. Because I always considered the source of the negativity. That was all before. 

Now : 

I still have that simply pretty face, and a remarkably nice body given I've now had two children. But I can't see it that way. 

I look in the mirror and see this skeleton of a person staring back. I see the bags from lack of sleep. I see the stress lines. I see this body that failed me. A walking crime scene. It's so hard to be happy or find joy when I carry the murder weapon and scene of the crime with me every nanosecond of every day. 

How can I be happy if I truly hate the body I have to live in??

My depression has been worse for the holidays lately. I pray my sweet family makes it through this huge slump. 

We sure are feeling the depths of the hole you left when you slipped away. 

Forever missing you my sweet diva.