I can complain about motherhood and still love my children more than anything in the world.
I am allowed to vocalize how exhausted I am without having to justify.
I am allowed to be burnt out & touched out- even if I have a helping hand.
Because honestly, some days I feel like a robot that barely gets charged enough at night and gets up every morning to run the same exact course.
My simple daily tasks have me feeling like I’m moving through quick sand. Confined to these walls of doing. Doing what needs to be done. Over. And over. And over, again. For everyone around me.
Each day, feeling a little more numb than the day before.
I love being a stay at home mom, but I hate feeling trapped too.
I love taking care of my children, but I hate having no other purpose.
I love being essential to my household, but I hate that it doesn’t function properly without me.
I hate that whenever I get the chance to be away, my mind is still stuck at home- that mental load I carry never leaves me.
I’m always giving- my time, my thoughts, my body, my energy, my will.
And when I dare say I’m tired, I am looked down upon and judged and misunderstood.
Because apparently, a mother is supposed to be limited to this eternal vessel of giving. And although I would willingly give my life for my children, no questions asked, I still feel overwhelmed with exhausted from time to time.
It’s gets heavy. And I am allowed to say that without feeling like a horrible mother.
I love them endlessly, but this load I’m always carrying, it gets heavy.
I can complain about motherhood and still love my children more than anything in the world. It doesn’t make me ungrateful.
Words by: Suka Nasrallah
Sketch by: angelica.ch.r