The good thing is, it forms an ever upwards curve. When ds was born I had crippling PND and thought I'd ruined my life forever by choosing parenthood. All I wanted was my life back. I had this idea on my head that if I just powered through the next 18 years then I'd finally get 'my life' at the end.
This is obviously not how it works! DS is currently almost ten, and I have most of my life back (HUGE LOCKDOWN CAVEAT). I can go for long walks, watch Netflix, hang out, pretty much whatever I want.
I take trips away on my own with absolutely no guilt.
And when he starts secondary school in a couple of years, he'll be in charge of his own social life and the final hurdle will fall away, that of negotiating with other parents.
I enjoy his company more and more, because he's clever and funny. We even like some of the same stuff now. It's not an eighteen year sentence at all, it's three years of sheer hell followed by an always changing positive progression towards a happy, civilised existence. Cheers!