Let me say this before anything else:
I’m grateful for my kids. Truly. Deeply.
They’ve given me purpose. They’ve stretched my heart in ways I didn’t know were possible. They’ve taught me patience—even when they push every single button I have.
But I still get tired.
Not just physically. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually.
Because I love my kids—but I also carry them.
Their needs. Their wants. Their emotions. Their mess.
Their futures.
And some days, that weight gets heavy.
Even love can be heavy.
The thing is, I don’t want their memories of me to just be yelling and fussing and “go clean that up.” I don’t want to become the type of mom they complain about on Facebook 10 years from now. You know the kind—“My mama was always mad,” “She never listened,” “She made everything about her.”
I don’t want that to be my legacy.
Because I’m not mad all the time—I’m just overwhelmed.
That’s why I’m thinking about going back to therapy.
Because if I don’t unpack this now, if I don’t start doing the work, I’m scared I’ll keep repeating the same cycle. Keep being the strong one who never gets soft. Keep being the provider but never the nurturer. Keep doing everything but feeling like I’m nothing.
I want to be better. For them. For me. For the grandbaby too.
So yeah—I’m grateful.
But I’m also tired.
And I’m ready to start healing.
If you’ve ever felt like you’re one breakdown away from becoming the version of your mom you swore you’d never be—please know you’re not alone. We’re allowed to heal. We’re allowed to grow. We’re allowed to do things differently.
