I see you.
I’m serious. I see you, hiding.
Because in this very moment, I am there with you.
I am there, hiding in my closet, with tears streaming from my eyes. I don’t know even why this day had the capacity to break me. I’ll blame hormones or that it’s cold outside or that it’s the end of the week and I’m just tired. Sometimes I have no problem with this motherhood things and feel like superwoman. And then, sigh, there are those days where I am broken and feeling like I should have my mom card revoked.
So know this. I’m not judging you. I’m not going to guilt you. I’m not going to give you a bunch of steps to make your life perfect in twenty minutes. I’m just going to talk with you. To share my heart.
Because these moments, oh my word, these moments they are so hard.
I don’t like talking about them that much. At least I used to not, because I was afraid others would think that I wasn’t a good mom. And the thought of that would crush me. So I would hide and hide from all of you the truth that sometimes motherhood and life is plain and simple hard.
It’s not that I even am unhappy. It’s just that there are days in the rolodex of days that don’t end on the spectrum of wonderful. But in order to have wonderful I think life balances it out with hard so that we learn to appreciate the wonderful. But even though I logically understand that the days that are hard just have the capacity to crush my mom spirit.
I don’t know why you’re hiding – what made this day just feel like too much that you had to step away for a moment. And that’s okay. Because we all have different stories, different thresholds, different moments of exhaustion. And I don’t know where you’re hiding. Maybe you are in your closet. Or in your car. Or the bathroom. Or the garage. Or in the kitchen with your head in your hands. Or in Target. Or at work. Or behind a smile that you’ve learned to keep on your face even though your heart is breaking and needing a friend.
I feel your heart. I am safe, I am that friend.
The one who will listen, not judge.
I know you want to be a good mom. I know you try. I know you love. I know that when you woke today you tried and you didn’t expect the day to end up in this spot.
And I know sometimes you feel alone.
Listen, listen, please – you are not alone.
That alone part is the worst. I think we don’t want to be the only mom who has these moments of real. But listen, read that word, real. Real means that you allow yourself the grace to not be perfect and have all the answers and keep off with all the expectations that the world puts on us. The pressures can suffocate out our ability to see how valuable all that we do really is – in some ways – it makes us feel not enough.
You are enough, sweet dear mom.
You are what your children need.
Let me repeat that – despite you feeling at your limit and needing to hide you are more than what your children need.
You are everything.
Let that fill your heart. I know in this moment you feel like you are spent and alone, but trust me, the noise that you hear in your house and the mess in the kitchen or whatever has you to this point of overwhelm there will come a day where you will look back and you will remember.
You will see your triumphs, your bravery.
How you, even now, care.
Let me whisper that to you, my dear friend. You care. That’s why the tears fall. You care. That’s why your heart hurts. You care. That’s why you get frustrated. You care. That’s why you sit at the table and deal with cranky kids. You care. And that’s why you will stand up, brush yourself off and you will try again.
And that, my dear friend hiding with me, is what you need to remember. Not the to-do list, not the failing times, not the things left to finish, not anything else besides the fact that you care. And that makes you the greatest mom in the world for your kids.
It will be okay. I promise you that. You will make it through, the sun will shine, the kitchen will be cleaned, the perspective regained.
You will be okay.