08/28/2026
I used to think if I could just get my life together, I’d finally feel like I had my life together.
You know what I mean.
Clean the house.
More money.
Be skinny.
Fix HIM.
Be present.
Less lazy, more doing.
Actually answer texts back.
Drink more water.
USE the fu***ng planner.
Then miraculously I’d wake up one morning and feel like one of those women who knows what she’s doing.
Except every time I fixed one thing, something else fell apart… like the rug was pulled out from underneath me.
And for a long time, I thought that meant I was failing.
I looked around at other women and genuinely believed they had figured out the secret to adulthood I had somehow missed.
They looked happier than I could ever imagine.
Maybe even more organized.
They for sure were better wives, better mothers. Dare I say.. better friends.
These little Suzy Homemakers could some how remember birthdays, get their kiddos lunches packed and somehow had clean baseboards.
Meanwhile, some days doing great meant I actually put the toilet paper roll on, mustered up enough energy for an everything shower, and even put out so my husband could feel seen.
And some days I was lying in bed thinking about everything I “should be doing” while doing absolutely none of it. The overwhelming task of it all is paralyzing.
So I kept telling myself the same story:
Once I get my s**t together, then I can be happy.
Anyway, here’s the truth.
There is no version of my life where everything is handled.
There is no finish line where the laundry is done, everyone is happy with me, my body is exactly how I want it, the house stays clean, the bank account has enough money, I never say the wrong thing, and I finally become the woman I thought I was supposed to be.
She. Doesn’t. Exist.
And maybe I’ve wasted enough of my life making the woman I actually am feel like s**t because she couldn’t become her.
So this is me trying something different.
Less pretending.
Less polishing.
Less saying what sounds good.
More saying the thing I actually mean.
Letting my yes be yes and my no be HELL NO.
Because we tell ourselves a lot of stories.
Anyway, here’s the truth.
