I grew up knowing what instability felt like—not just as a concept, but as a constant, gnawing presence. I knew the sound of hurried packing. I knew the sting of slammed doors. I knew how it felt to fall asleep in a house that didn’t feel safe. My childhood wasn’t rooted in warmth or security—it was…

Childhood is supposed to be simple.

It’s supposed to be filled with belly laughs and scraped knees, bedtime stories and soft blankets, the kind of innocence where the biggest fear is whether the nightlight is bright enough…

I grew up as the oldest daughter in my family. And if you’ve ever been the oldest daughter, you probably know what that means: responsibility, expectation, and pressure that feels heavier than anyone realizes…

Turning 30 hit me harder than I expected. Not because of the number itself, but because it forced me to stop and really look at my life. And when I did, I realized something I’d been avoiding for years: somewhere along the way, I lost myself.

I became a mother young. I didn’t have much time

For a long time, I lived as if my worth was measured by how much I could give away.

I said yes to everyone—because if I didn’t, what would they think?
That I wasn’t dependable?
That I wasn’t loving enough?
That I wasn’t “good” at this whole motherhood/wife/friend/human thing?…

For the moms who are tired of being “fine.”

It usually starts quietly.

You tell yourself you’re just tired, that everyone feels this way, that if you could just get through this week, you’d feel better. But weeks turn into months, and the exhaustion doesn’t fade—it settles in…

Because sometimes the hardest thing to do is nothing.

You finally sit down. For five seconds.
Then your brain whispers: You should be folding laundry.
Or answering texts. Or planning dinner. Or wiping something…

No one hands you a contract for it.
No one announces when you’ve been promoted.
But somehow, somewhere along the way—you became the default parent.

The one who:

• Remembers the dentist appointments

• Knows the shoe sizes…..

It wasn’t one big dramatic breakdown.
It wasn’t even me yelling at my kids over something small (though I’d done that more often than I’d like to admit).

It was an ordinary Tuesday morning.
And it was the day I realized I had nothing left to give…