There as a season recently where I felt completely emotionally checked out. Life felt heavy all of the time. I felt like I was failing at everything- failing as a mom, failing to keep up with the house, failing to keep myself together. Even the smallest things started to feel overwhelming, and I found myself slipping into this place where I was constantly feeling sorry for myself and slightly mourning the life I used to have. By that I mean, I miss my old co-workers, I missed having a job and feeling accomplished, I miss my old friends and my daily chats with them.
One of the hardest parts of moving has been realizing that relationships change, even the ones you thought never would. The people you used to talk to every day slowly become people you barely hear from. Life keeps moving for everyone, and sometimes you don’t even realize how disconnected you’ve become until you find out something major happened in someone’s life and you had no idea. No one called. No one reached out. And that hurts more than I can explain.
But I think that’s part of growing and moving forward, too.
Not every chapter of your life is meant to stay the center of your story forever. That doesn’t mean those friendships or memories didn’t matter. It just means life changed. People changed. I changed.
And somewhere in the middle of all that sadness, I had to remind myself that my life now is still good. Maybe not perfect, maybe not easy, but good. I have a family I love deeply. I have this home and this life we’ve built from scratch. I have children who still need a present, joyful version of me.
I think acceptance is realizing you can miss people, grieve old versions of your life, and still move forward without bitterness. You can carry those memories with love while also letting yourself fully live in the life that’s in front of you now.
The other morning, I was sitting out on the deck looking over the yard, and for the first time in a long time, I just felt genuinely happy.
Not the kind of happiness that comes from everything being perfect, because it isn’t. We still have stress. We still have bills. We still have weeks where unexpected expenses pop up and things feel tight and overwhelming. But sitting there, looking at everything we’ve created here, I realized something.
This is life.
Not someday. Not “when things calm down.” Not “when we finally get ahead.” This right here — the messy, exhausting, beautiful middle of it all — this is the life we prayed for.
The boys are thriving. They have their sports, their friends, their memories being made. We built a home here. We built a life here. And beside me is the person I genuinely want to go through all of this with. The person who keeps encouraging me when I feel defeated. The person who reminds me that we’ve got this. Together, we can get through anything. Together, we can build anything.
And it hit me how fast all of this is moving.
The kids are only this little for such a short time. Life doesn’t slow down and wait for us to catch up. One day this house will be quieter, the schedules won’t be as chaotic, and I know I’ll miss these days more than I can even imagine right now.
That moment on the deck made me realize I can’t keep living in this mindset of “someday things will be better.” I don’t want to keep waiting for happiness while life is already happening around me.
I want to make it better now.
I want to be present now. I want to enjoy what we have now. I want to create memories in the middle of the chaos and make this chapter one worth remembering.
Because this is it. This is the beautiful, exhausting, imperfect middle of life — and honestly, I think that’s where the good stuff is.
Maybe that’s what growing up really is — learning that life isn’t made up of constant big moments or finally “arriving” somewhere easier. It’s learning to find peace and joy right in the middle of the chaos.
I think for a while I was grieving old friendships, old versions of myself, and old chapters of my life so deeply that I forgot to fully appreciate the chapter I’m living in now. But this life we’ve built deserves my presence. My family deserves the best of me, not the exhausted version constantly waiting for things to feel easier.
So I’m choosing to stop wishing time away.
I’m choosing to soak in the loud hockey mornings, the messy house, the late-night talks, the backyard sunsets, the chaos, the laughter, and even the hard days. Because one day, these will be the moments I look back on and miss the most.
Life is moving fast, whether I slow down to appreciate it or not.
And maybe happiness isn’t found in finally having everything figured out. Maybe it’s simply realizing that even in the middle of the struggle, you already have so much to be grateful for.
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