by Samantha Ettus

At every age, I have been a bit proud of the year under my belt. But this one is different. My 40^th birthday arrives this week and I have become a wreck. I want a party. I don’t want a party. I am sad. I am hysterical. I have everything I have always wanted. I just want to crawl under the covers.

I am often accused of being that woman – the one that appears to have it all together. Whose Facebook page looks like a highlight reel, whose kids look at the camera in synch for the holiday photo, but at the end of the day, we are all busy fighting our own struggles and assuming others’ don’t exist. And I find that working moms especially, worry in silos. We don’t think we have more on Forbes…