📝 The Reason I Started This Blog

I didn’t start this blog to teach anyone how to be better. I started it because I was falling apart quietly — and no one seemed to notice. I was exhausted in a way that sleep couldn’t fix. I was resentful, snappy, checked out, and still showing up every day with a smile on my face and a to-do list in my hand.

I didn’t recognize myself anymore.

For years, I kept performing — at work, at home, in my marriage, in motherhood. I was the dependable one. The strong one. The one who always rallied, always planned ahead, always made things work. And for a while, that identity made me feel safe. In control. Needed.

But somewhere along the way, I started to disappear underneath all that responsibility. I’d come home after school and feel numb. I’d snap over nothing and cry about everything. I’d pour myself into my classroom and then come home too empty to pour into my own kids. I hated that. I hated who I was becoming. But I didn’t know how to stop the unraveling. And I didn’t know how to talk about it without feeling like I was failing.

So I started writing.

I started this blog because I needed somewhere to tell the truth. About burnout. About motherhood. About being the “easy one” growing up and the “strong one” now. About the mental load. About the resentment that builds when you give too much and no one checks on you. About the guilt that follows you everywhere — even when you know you’re doing your best.

This blog is where I finally exhaled.

It’s for the women who are tired of pretending they’re fine. For the moms who love their kids fiercely but miss themselves deeply. For the teachers who give their whole heart and soul to the classroom but feel invisible in the staff meeting. For the wives who carry the emotional weight of the entire household and still wonder if they’re doing enough.

This is for us. The over-functioners. The quiet warriors. The ones who hold it all but never feel held.

I hope when you land here, you feel seen. I hope my words remind you that your feelings are valid. That your exhaustion makes sense. That you’re not weak — you’re just carrying too much without enough support. That you can love your life and still feel overwhelmed by it.

I hope you let yourself be human here. I hope you let yourself be honest.

You are not too much. You are not alone. You don’t have to earn rest, love, or peace.

You’re already worthy of all three.

– Carley