Sister. I am calling it.
The guilt. The pressure. The unrealistic expectations. The negative talk. It has to stop. WE have to stop. We are killing our own joy. We are drowning in failure.
How many times have you lain awake at night going through the to-do list of tomorrow while thinking about everything you didn’t accomplish today?
All of the “should haves” replaying in your mind.
Your heart starts to race. The overwhelming feeling starts creeping in and the stress starts seeping out. You start prioritizing in your head what can fall off your plate for the day and what can’t. There just aren’t enough hours in the day, you tell yourself. When am I going to get it together?
I know this type of self-talk because I have been there more days than I care to admit.
But, how are we supposed to move forward? How are we ever going to get ahead when we are stuck in the guilt of yesterday?
Hear me. We have to stop measuring our worth based on the number of check marks on our to-do list and the size of our waistline.
So what? There are dishes in the sink, laundry piled high and chaos to boot. Who told you that if your house isn’t pristine you are failing? Or that if you lose every sense of the word “patience” on any given day, you’re not a good mama?
Whose expectations are those? Yours or societies?
Sister, no one gets to tell you your worth. So why do we let them?
Why do we let guilt overrule our own happiness?
Because let me tell you, no one is pulling off this motherhood thing perfectly and if they claim to be? Have them send me their book in the mail because it’s a load of crap.
I’m tired of the expectations.
I’m tired of the race. Of comparing and beating myself up over things just because someone, somewhere along the line told me I should.
So yeah, my jeans fit a little tighter than I prefer.
Chicken nuggets are on a regular rotation at my household.
The laundry room is an epic disaster.
I lose my patience.
I have unwashed dishes in my sink and crumbs on my floor.
I’m late [to] work more days than I can count because I can’t manage time to save my life.
That doesn’t make me a bad mama. It makes me a real one. And if I’m being honest. I’m a dang good one. And you are, too.
Reality? Motherhood isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s not bliss 24/7. There are going to be days where it feels mundane. There will be days where we screw up in epic proportions and get nothing accomplished. That’s OK.
Those things don’t define me. Those things don’t dictate whether or not I am good enough. And they don’t for you either.
Let’s start extending the same grace to ourselves that we give others on a daily basis.
Because your life is right in front of you and sister, it’s a good one. Even the messy parts.
Let’s stop beating ourselves up for the things that we aren’t and start celebrating everything that we are, instead.
Because I am here to tell you that you are enough. In fact, you are more than enough. You are perfect just as you are, dishes and all.