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In this house, we mess up.

I yelled today. I could blame it on the bowl of cereal that spilled all over the table this morning or the mess that seems to accumulate the second anyone is awake, but it wasn't really about that.

It wasn't the milk or the mess.

It wasn't the piles of laundry or the dishes strewn across my counter from the night before.

It wasn't the lack of sleep or the pinched nerve in my back that keeps reminding me I need to take better care of myself.

It wasn't the rage cleaning I did just yesterday or the fact that even though I never stop, I never manage to get caught up.

It was a culmination of things. Like those pictures of the iceberg where you all you see is the small portion above water when in reality there is a giant mass below the surface - the same can be said for my stress level lately.

Today, the milk just happened to be the tipping point that broke off a chunk and punctured the boat. I knew my lack of patience in that moment was ridiculous, I mean four year old's spill things. It's normal, but I couldn't stop the avalanche of frustration from seeping outward.

Up until that point I had hidden it well. Sure, I grumble under my breath and suppress the anxiety that tries to creep in at night. Because as women and mothers that's what we do, don't we? We suppress things.

We try to manage the stress by tackling more. We spread ourselves thinner and thinner until - we hit a wall. Until the thought of one more unexpected thing inserting itself into our day sends us spiraling into tears and words of frustration.

Until the very idea of "more" reminds us - we can't.

We can't continue to carry the world on our shoulders when we are in fact one.

We can't continue to do it all and be it all.

We can't continue to put ourselves dead last.

We can't suppress our feelings to the point where we are numb because like the iceberg, all that happens is we push everything to the bottom. Our foundation ends up being built on feelings of failure.

Sis, listen to me. Stop adding more to your plate. Quit thinking you'll feel better when you check some things off your list or get a little more organized. It doesn't matter. It doesn't equate to how worthy you are as a mother and a woman.

You are worthy TODAY no matter how much of a train wreck today was. No matter how much you feel you failed today - you didn't. You showed up. That matters. Maybe you yelled today or rage cleaned because it's the only thing that gives you a sense of control in a world seemingly spinning into chaos. I get it. I'm right there with you. Believe me I am.

Do what you have to. Grab the paper towels. Wipe the mess and throw it in the trash - because in this house we mess up. But we also know our worthiness is never measured by our mess.


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