Honestly?

What the fuck.

That’s probably the most accurate summary of life lately.

I feel like I’m simultaneously living six different lives while trying to remember where I put my coffee.

I’m a mom. I’m working full-time. I’m in grad school. I’m trying to build an entirely new career. I’m trying to figure out what the hell my personal life is supposed to look like. I’m navigating co-parenting. I’m dealing with boundaries. I’m trying to keep my house functioning. I’m trying to keep my kids functioning. I’m trying to keep myself functioning.

And somewhere in there, apparently, I’m also supposed to sleep.

Cute.

Motherhood lately has been… an experience.

My kids are amazing.

They are also tiny humans who have somehow mastered the ability to need something from me every 14 seconds.

“Mom.”

“Mom.”

“Mom.”

“Mom, look.”

“Mom, she touched me.”

“Mom, I’m hungry.”

“Mom, I’m not tired.”

“Mom, I need water.”

“Mom, where’s my—”

I DON’T KNOW.

I HAVE LOST MY WILL TO LIVE.

😂

And then there’s the parenting stuff that isn’t funny.

Lately I’ve had to get really comfortable with setting boundaries.

And apparently, people don’t always like those.

Here’s the thing I’ve had to learn:

Just because someone is upset about my boundary doesn’t mean the boundary is wrong.

I’m not going to apologize for being their mother.

I’m not going to apologize for wanting to be involved in my children’s lives.

I’m not going to apologize for having feelings about things that involve my kids.

And I’m especially not going to keep explaining myself to people who have already decided they’re going to misunderstand me.

I’ve spent way too much of my life trying to make everyone else comfortable.

I’m tired.

I’m allowed to say no.

I’m allowed to be uncomfortable.

I’m allowed to have a boundary.

And no, that doesn’t automatically make me a bitch.

Sometimes it just means I finally stopped letting people walk all over me.

And then there’s school.

Because apparently I looked at my already chaotic life and thought:

You know what would make this better? A master’s degree.

😂

I am currently working toward my master’s in clinical mental health counseling.

Which is exciting.

And meaningful.

And also sometimes makes me want to throw my laptop directly into the sun.

There are nights where I’m sitting there reading academic articles thinking, I am absolutely going to help people someday.

And then five minutes later I’m staring at an APA citation thinking:

I hate everyone.

But underneath all the assignments, discussion posts, papers, and “reply to two classmates” bullshit is something I really care about.

I want to become the counselor I wish more people had.

I want to work with adults who have been told they’re too much, too complicated, too damaged, too difficult, too whatever.

I want people to be able to walk into my office and not have to spend the first 45 minutes pretending they’re okay.

I want to understand the ugly parts.

The complicated parts.

The trauma.

The shit people don’t want to say out loud.

And maybe that’s why I’m willing to keep going even when I’m exhausted.

Because this isn’t just a degree to me.

It’s part of the life I’m building.

And speaking of building a new life…

There are some chapters I’m still grieving.

And that’s something I don’t think people talk about enough.

Sometimes you can know something needs to end and still fucking grieve it.

You can know you’re making the right decision and still have moments where it hurts like hell.

You can miss who someone was.

You can miss who you were.

You can miss the future you thought you were going to have.

And none of that means you should go backward.

I’ve learned that closure doesn’t always come from someone finally saying the right thing.

Sometimes closure is realizing you’re done waiting for them to.

Sometimes closure is accepting that you’ll never get the apology.

You’ll never get the explanation.

You’ll never get the version of events that makes everything suddenly make sense.

And eventually you just say:

Okay. Fuck it. I’m moving forward anyway.

I’m also realizing I don’t really want to be “normal.”

And honestly?

Thank God.

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to make myself easier for other people to understand.

I’ve tried to make myself smaller.

Quieter.

Less opinionated.

Less emotional.

Less weird.

Less passionate.

Less me.

I’m not doing that anymore.

I’m a little dark.

I’m a little chaotic.

I’m passionate as hell.

I have interests that aren’t everyone’s cup of tea.

I care deeply about mental health.

I care about alternative lifestyles and creating spaces where people can actually talk about them without immediately being judged.

I love horror.

I love creating things.

I love teaching.

I love helping people.

I can be sarcastic as fuck.

I can be soft as hell.

I can be both.

And I’m finally getting comfortable with that.

The funny thing about rebuilding your life is that nobody really tells you how messy it is.

Everyone loves the “new chapter” part.

Nobody talks about the part where you’re sitting on the floor surrounded by pieces of your old life trying to figure out which ones you’re keeping.

Nobody talks about how exhausting it is to reinvent yourself while still having responsibilities from the life you’re trying to leave.

You don’t get to pause motherhood because you’re having an identity crisis.

You don’t get to call your job and say, “Sorry, I’m currently experiencing character development.”

You don’t get an extension on life because you’re emotionally exhausted.

The bills still come.

The kids still need dinner.

The assignment is still due.

Laundry still exists.

And somehow you’re expected to keep functioning while you’re internally screaming:

CAN EVERYONE PLEASE FUCKING HOLD ON FOR FIVE MINUTES?

But somehow…

I do.

Every damn time.

I’m tired, but I’m not giving up.

That’s probably the biggest difference between who I was and who I’m becoming.

I still have bad days.

I still get overwhelmed.

I still cry.

I still get angry.

I still question myself.

I still have moments where I wonder if I’m actually doing any of this right.

But I don’t stay there like I used to.

I get back up.

I handle what needs to be handled.

I apologize when I’m wrong.

I hold my boundaries when I’m not.

I love my kids.

I go to work.

I do the damn schoolwork.

I keep dreaming.

I keep creating.

I keep planning.

I keep building.

Even when I don’t feel like it.

Especially when I don’t feel like it.

Because I’m finally starting to understand something:

My life doesn’t have to look perfect for me to be proud of it.

It can be messy.

It can be complicated.

It can be expensive as fuck.

It can be exhausting.

It can have plot twists I absolutely did not fucking order.

It can contain people who leave, people who disappoint me, people who surprise me, and people who show up when I least expect them.

It can contain mistakes.

It can contain grief.

It can contain healing.

It can contain laughter five minutes after I’ve been crying.

That’s life.

And right now?

I’m somewhere in the middle of all of it.

Still healing.

Still learning.

Still parenting.

Still working.

Still studying.

Still figuring out who the hell I am.

Still becoming.

But I’m here.

And that’s worth something.

So if you’ve been wondering what life has been like lately…

It’s been a fucking lot.

But I’m still standing.

And honestly?

I’m starting to really like the woman who’s standing here.

Even if she desperately needs a nap.