Sometimes I find myself lying in bed after midnight, gazing at the ceiling, questioning if I got any of it right.
The baby 👶 eventually drifted off after three tries. My toddler cried because I handed her the blue cup instead of the red one. I raised my voice more than I intended. The laundry remains in the basket, and dinner consisted of scrambled eggs and toast. I feel stretched thin, tattered at the edges. Yet, even amidst that fatigue, the love is unwavering. Intense. Unyielding.
There are days when it seems like I’m giving everything I possess—and still falling short.
I believe we don’t discuss these types of days enough. The ones where love is present, but so is the burden. The guilt. The silent question lingering in your mind: Am I failing? 😞
I recall one day, particularly. I had just returned home from work, completely drained. My youngest was teething. My oldest was having a meltdown over math homework. I had no patience remaining, and I lost it. Not in a dramatic, cinematic manner. Just a weary, sharp “Not now! ” that lingered heavily in the atmosphere. And instantly, I felt it—the sting of remorse. The sensation of being too fatigued to improve, even when you earnestly desire to.
That night, I wept 😓 in the shower. Not for long. Just enough.
Burnout creeps in gradually. It’s not merely fatigue. It’s that deep-seated exhaustion that makes everything seem heavier. And as mothers, we don’t always have the luxury to hit pause. Life doesn’t halt for us to recuperate.
Thus, I have learned to discover small ways to find moments of peace amid the chaos. Sometimes it’s five quiet minutes in the car before I enter the house. Sometimes it’s declining something I can’t manage, even if it leads to disappointing someone. Sometimes it’s messaging a friend and simply saying, “Today was tough. ”
Mental health 🧠 is important—our wellness is essential. However, it frequently takes a backseat when there are so many others to look after. That’s why I’ve begun creating small pockets of time for myself. I keep a notebook beside the bed and jot down a few lines at night. I stretch, even if it’s just for the length of two songs. I stroll around the block without any particular goal.
It doesn’t resolve everything, but it reminds me that I’m still present—still me. Still deserving of care.
If you’re reading this and finding yourself deep in it—perhaps with dishes cluttering the sink and a lump in your throat—I want you to know something:
You are not alone.
You are not failing.
You are undertaking the most challenging, heart-expanding work there is.
And even when you feel like you’re falling apart, your love keeps everything intact.
Keep pushing through, mama.
You are sufficient for your children, even in the weighty, particularly the weighty.
Post Disclaimer
Utilizing my own personal experiences as well as my background as a Registered Nurse, I share my enthusiasm for travel and health on this blog. Though I love what I do and sometimes talk about tactics for modest health improvement, keep in mind that the material provided might not be exact. The material herein is just for self-improvement. The content shared draws on my own experiences, thoughts, and stories. With this in mind, readers should consult their healthcare providers about any concerns they may experience.
Since each person has a different health path, what helps one person may not help another. Readers should consult their personal healthcare providers for personalized guidance based on their individual needs and circumstances. Rather than replacing the professional, my goal here is to inspire, enlighten, and start conversations that improve and make life more fulfilling relations between you and your medical staff.