I’m Not a Bad Mom, I’m Just Healing.

Some days I parent from a place of overflow. Other days, I parent from the edge of my own unraveling. And both are real.

I used to measure my worth by how much I could hold without breaking. Now I measure it by how gently I return to myself when I do.

Healing doesn’t make me less of a mother; it makes me more honest. My children don’t need a perfect mom. They need a present one. And sometimes, presence looks like saying, “I’m sorry I snapped. I’m still learning how to breathe through the chaos.”

I’m not a bad mom. I’m just healing. And healing is messy, sacred, and slow.