There’s this unspoken belief that if you’re not falling apart, you’re not doing enough.
The feeling that if you look rested, you must not be working or probably not well-groomed.
And if you’re cared for, supported, and smiling…you’re somehow out of touch.
It’s exhausting.
The constant pressure to appear overwhelmed just to be seen as “real.”
To perform struggle, so people don’t assume your life is too easy.
To have to explain why your days include self-care instead of suffering.
I’m a mother of two and I don’t work.
I wake up early for Pilates and spend time with my children while making some time for myself.
And I won’t apologize for it because I don’t think balance is something to hide.
I think it’s something to model, although somehow, women like me get dismissed as if we are not carrying a heavy burden.
Let me say this:
Just because someone isn’t screaming for help doesn’t mean they don’t need it.
They may look put together, but that doesn’t mean their life is perfect.
That’s why I choose ease even when I’m facing pressure and judgment.
I just don’t wear it all on my face because I never want to live in shambles to earn anyone’s respect.
I want to live in peace and still be seen for all that I am.
I’m not trying to survive motherhood.
I’m trying to be well in it.
So tell me, do we only validate pain we can see, or are we ready to respect the woman who sets herself up to breathe before she breaks?