There are days — more often than I’d like to admit — where I feel like I’m not enough.
Not strong enough.
Not patient enough.
Not present enough.
Not the mum, partner, or woman I want to be.
And when my mental health dips, it’s like those thoughts come flooding in, louder and heavier than usual. They fill the quiet moments. They echo in the chaos. They sit heavy in my chest while I smile through routines and responsibilities.
Lately, it’s been hard. Really hard.
My mind has been unkind, and my body hasn’t been helping. Living in constant pain — the kind that makes every movement feel like a battle — adds a layer of guilt that’s almost unbearable. I grieve the energy I used to have. I feel like my body is letting me down… and worse, like I’m letting everyone else down because of it.
The Invisible Guilt
There’s a particular kind of guilt that comes with chronic pain — not just the ache itself, but the feeling that you’re somehow less than because of it. I see the mess I didn’t tidy. The plans I had to cancel. The smiles I faked while my body screamed beneath the surface. I notice the moments I snapped out of frustration, not because of anyone else, but because I was running on fumes.
And then comes the shame spiral:
Why can’t I just push through?
Why can’t I be stronger?
Why am I always tired, sore, emotional?
Why am I not the mum my kids deserve?
It’s cruel, this voice in my head. It picks apart everything I am and compares it to everything I wish I could be. It forgets the effort it takes to keep going — even when I’m hurting. It dismisses the love I give, the quiet ways I show up, the fierce way I fight through each day.
Trying to Breathe Through It
I don’t have all the answers. I wish I did. Some days, survival is the win. Getting out of bed, being there for my children, answering a message — those are the victories I have to count when everything feels heavy.
But I’m trying to remind myself of this:
It’s not a failure to struggle.
It’s not weakness to feel.
And I don’t have to be perfect to be loved.
My body may be hurting, and my mind may be clouded, but I am still showing up — in whatever way I can. I’m allowed to rest. I’m allowed to be messy and human and still be a good mum, a good partner, a good me.
So if you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt like you’re not enough — please hear this: you are.
Even in your quietest, most overwhelmed moments.
Even when your body feels broken and your mind feels like it’s betraying you.
You are enough. You are trying. You are still here.
And that’s more than enough.
P.S. If you’ve been where I am, or if you’re in it now, I see you. Let’s hold space for each other — gently, honestly, and without shame. 💛
Comments
Post a Comment