Journal Entry | For My Kids Someday

What do you do when doing your best, feels like “just getting through the day?” Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m just existing. I wake up already a little tired, knowing the day will be filled with the usual—meals to cook, dishes to clean, laundry to fold, reminders to give. And when all of it is finally done, what I want more than anything isn’t a deep heart-to-heart with my kids, or a game, or a family craft. I want quiet. To be alone.  Maybe fill that time with recharging myself before I dive into the next round of appointments, meals, chores etc. I want to not be needed. And then… I feel guilty for feeling that way.

I find myself counting the hours until bedtime, not because I don’t love being a mother, but because I am worn thin. And it makes me wonder—how do I bring color back into the canvas of our days when everything feels a little gray?

I’m writing this for my kids to read someday—not to make them feel bad, but to tell the truth. I want them to know I was doing my best. That even when I felt like I was running on empty, I was trying to give them a childhood full of love.

So here’s where I start. These are my own reminders—my own tiny revolutions to reclaim joy:

• Pause before the day begins—even if it’s just 3 minutes with my hand on my heart and a few deep breaths, or scripture study, or simply sitting with a positive emotion.

• Let some things slide. (prob the HARDEST for me) Let the floor be dirty. Let the laundry sit. Play instead.

• Sit with Hapé I’ve noticed the days I sit with hapé in meditation the more less “reactive” I am. (What is hapé learn HERE. ❤️ )

• Start something that’s just mine. A creative project. A book. A class. Something that reminds me who I am.

• Tell the truth—to a friend, in a journal, or here. Because naming the hard stuff takes its power away.

• Connect with each child for 5 min each day-This gets discourging. Because it feels like no matter how much undivided attention I give, it’s never enough.  And when I try to connect hoping it will eliminate any mom guilt, it never does.  But I’m hoping that consistency is key.

Maybe fulfillment doesn’t always look like joy. Maybe it sometimes looks like showing up, again and again, tired and tender, and choosing love anyway.

And maybe that’s more than enough.