If Tomorrow Feels Impossible, Read This.

If tomorrow feels impossible, I’m not here to fix you, I’m here to sit with you for a minute.

I’m here to help you realize that life will never be entirely easy, not for us, and definitely not forever. Hard times do not last, and neither will this season that’s pushing you down.

All my life, I’ve done everything for everyone. And I’m not mad at it. I’m not upset. I would do it all over again until my dying breath.

What I am mad about is how completely exhausted I can be, skipping breakfast, skipping dinner, sleeping all day, and no one notices.

Will they notice? Probably not.

Do they care? Not in the way we need.

Being burnt out isn’t just, “I’m calling it a day, I’m beat.” Burnout is deeper, quieter, more dangerous.

It doesn’t look like snapping over spilled milk.

It doesn’t feel like losing it over one piece of trash on the floor. That’s just the surface.

Underneath it, we are worn down, not physically beaten, but mentally battered. By expectations, by guilt, by the constant pressure to hold everything together while no one sees the mental weight we carry.

We are starved, and not on purpose. How are we supposed to eat when our focus is always on someone else being hungry, or needing laundry done, after folding clothes all week for the sock monster that somehow eats every matching pair?

We have been mentally drained longer than we want to admit, and we don’t admit it, because why add more stress to someone else?

And if you’re a single mom, you carry it all alone. You take it out on yourself, you stress your mind, your body, your soul.

Babe, chill.

Your babies need you, you’re not a damn robot.

Here is a damn starting point, we’re going to make you so damn powerful.

The kids screaming isn’t going to bump you off your seat.

The kids aren’t slick, they know what they’re doing in every way.

If they didn’t, we ourselves wouldn’t be tired so much from doing anything and everything to their beck and call.

We wouldn’t be worried about their socks being clean, or if they’ve showered once this week.

They’re playing us like the fiddles we are because we never had anyone to play for ourselves, not that we’d ever want or need to, but we’ve never had the physical power to.

I’m rambling a little, but my point is, mom, we need our routines back, we need a safe mental space to collect our thoughts.

We don’t have to run on E anymore, we never had to.

We thought we did because all our lives, and since having kids, we’ve been the ones to carry the heavy, to feed the damned, to forget all about ourselves.

Hell, when’s the last time you painted your toes for the sake of it?

Ma’am, your feet are crying for a pedicure.

Follow me for steps to unleash your inner MOMster, bring your light back. Your happiness matters.

Just surviving isn’t working anymore.

Just burning out was never meant to sit on you.

You were meant to fly with your dreams.