A Letter to Myself in the Thick of It

Dear me,

I see you. Sitting on the bathroom floor for just one minute of quiet. The kids are yelling (again), there’s dried up yogurt drink on your shirt, and you’re not sure if you’ve had lunch or just finished your kid’s leftover granola bar.

This is the thick of it.

I know you’re tired – like soul-deep tired. I know your body aches from carrying children, laundry baskets, emotional weight. I know your brain feels foggy some days, and the to-do list never seems to shrink, no matter how many things you check off.

But I want you to know: You are doing it. Even when it doesn’t feel like enough. Even when you snap or cry or forget the thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t forget this time.

You are showing up. And that matters more than you know.

I know there are days you miss the version of you who had space to think, to read, to be. And it’s okay to miss her. You’re not ungrateful for what you have – you’re human. You’re layered. You’re still in there.

You don’t have to be perfect to be a good mom. You don’t have to smile through the hard stuff to be worthy of love or rest. You don’t have to do it all today.

Breathe.
Drink some water.
Ask for help.
Say no when you need to.
Say yes when it matters to you.
Hold your babies close. Let them see you real. Let them see you try.

This season is loud and demanding and tender and wild. And someday – maybe not soon, but someday – you’ll look back and see how strong you were. Not because you held it all together, but because you let yourself fall apart and still chose love anyway.

So here’s your permission slip:
To rest.
To laugh.
To cry.
To start over.
To soften.
To be held – by grace, by faith, by the reminder that you are not alone in this.

You’re doing better than you think.
I’m proud of you.
Keep going.

With love,
Me