“Sometimes I just need a day.
I could blame the pandemic or the incessant life or death decision-making of the last few months.
I could brush it off as my anxiety or my full plate of homeschooling, work, and grad school.
I could dismiss this feeling as overwhelm and over stressed, under appreciated and misunderstood.
But, friends, the truth is that sometimes I just need a day.
Not five minutes before my kids wake up.
Not enough time to shower.
Not only a hot meal.
Not just any other daily activity that we’ve somehow shifted to the “self-care” category of motherhood–the ones we celebrate when men (I love you, dads, but I speak truth) are expected to have hot coffee, meals, and showers daily but moms should somehow be grateful for these “luxuries”.
Sister, I can’t keep going on the gratefulness of one hot mug of coffee in the morning.
I can’t continue to be thankful if I manage to shower more than twice a week.
I absolutely can no longer move forward when my time working from home is counted as my “down time” just because my kids aren’t beside me (not withstanding the eleventy interruptions I get for snacks, drinks, or to “watch this”).
Friends, this is a painful truth, a call for help, a wide-eyed end-of-my-rope shouting from my darkest and most cob-webby places that I can’t do it anymore.
And I expect you can’t either.
Because I know you struggle, too.
I see you with your mom bun and three-day dry shampoo aimlessly wandering the aisles of the grocery that you got excited to go to JUST so you could get a break for an hour. And I can see the exhaustion behind your mask.
I notice you because I AM you.
My husband is loving, thoughtful, and generous. He is a caring dad and a hard worker.
But here’s the thing…
If I’m telling you the truth, I need to tell you the WHOLE truth.
Part of this is my fault.
See, I am a fixer. I’m a nurturer, a doer, a striver, a manager of all the things.
