The Restless Heart: A Quiet Tug-of-War

Lately, my heart has felt like it’s pacing. Not with anxiety, exactly—but with an unnamed yearning. It’s a soft, persistent tug. A quiet wondering. A swirl of contradiction that I haven’t quite been able to shake: the urge to do something big… while desperately craving stillness. The desire to want more… while also feeling like I should be grateful for what’s already here.

It’s the kind of restlessness that doesn’t go away with a bubble bath or a walk around the block. It lives deeper. It’s the ache of an internal shift—something trying to be born.

The Craving for Freedom and the Longing for Routine

I crave freedom. Freedom from the relentless ticking of the to-do list, from the mental tabs left open all day long. But at the very same time, I long for structure—something that gives shape to the whirlwind. I want rhythm. Predictability. A steady path.

But instead, I forget the grocery list and spiral. That one small moment snowballs into guilt and self-criticism: You can’t even remember the groceries? You’re a stay-at-home mom—shouldn’t this be easy?

The answer? No. It’s not easy. It never was.

The Pressure to “Do It All” (and Do It Perfectly)

Somewhere along the line, we were handed this unspoken script: If you’re home, you should have it all together. But motherhood doesn’t follow clean lines or predictable timelines. You give and give until you forget what you even needed in the first place.



There’s pressure to make everything look effortless. To be fully present, joyful, productive, well-rested, budget-conscious, creative, nurturing, and sexy—preferably all in one day. And when you fall short (because of course you do), it feels like a personal failure.

Financial Stress, Emotional Noise, and That One Dang Litter Box

There’s the emotional weight. Then there’s the financial one.

Every purchase comes with a pause: Do we need this? Can we afford this?
And right behind that voice is another whisper: Am I doing enough for them? For myself?



And if I’m honest… I don’t always feel like I’m doing enough for me.

Motherhood feels like one never-ending to-do list where nothing ever fully stays done. You clean the litter box, and thirty minutes later, your toddler flings the contents across the floor while crying for your attention. Welcome back to square one.

It’s maddening. And weirdly poetic. A perfect metaphor for the motherhood loop.

Losing Myself in the Clutter—And in the Mirror

Then there’s my reflection.

I used to imagine I’d feel like a polished, radiant version of myself once I “arrived” in motherhood. The kind who gets dressed before noon, has meaningful routines, maybe even a skincare regimen. Instead, I see a woman who loves deeply and gives constantly—and also misses parts of who she used to be.

I know my body is powerful. It created life. But some days I still grieve the person I thought I’d become. Other days, I wonder if any of it matters to anyone but me.

And yet… I wouldn’t trade this life. Even on the hardest days, I know how lucky I am. But knowing that doesn’t make the restlessness go away.

Guilt vs. Grace: What If We Let Both Exist?

We are allowed to love our lives and still feel overwhelmed by them. We are allowed to hold gratitude and grief at the same time. We are allowed to say this is enough… and I want more… and I don’t even know what I want—all in the same breath.

If you’ve ever felt like you're failing at motherhood while simultaneously knowing how deeply you love your child—you’re not broken. You’re just unraveling the layers of “shoulds” you never asked for.

What If It’s Not About Having the Answers?

We don’t need to fix this feeling. We don’t need to name it, tame it, or push it down.

What we can do is let it breathe. We can sit with it, even if it’s uncomfortable.

Sometimes, the bravest thing a mother can do is admit that she’s struggling. Not because she doesn’t love her life—but because she’s still trying to find herself within it.

The Sacred Shift from Doing to Being

Maybe the invitation here is to loosen your grip. To hold the dishes, the deadlines, the budget, the body image—all of it—with a little more softness. Maybe the goal isn’t to do it all, but to be in it all. Fully. Imperfectly. Present.

Because even when the messes multiply and your reflection feels unfamiliar—who you are right now is still worthy. Still whole. Still enough.

Mini Prompt:

What would it look like today if you gave yourself permission to be instead of do?