Cigarette taste stuck to the insides of my dry mouth.

My vision blurs. Is that my heart, in my ear?

The room is shrinking.

My mind races faster than my thoughts can keep up.

My chest feels like it’s collapsing.

Self-deprecating thoughts crash into the spiral of anxiety that was already at capacity.

My palms are sweaty.

Scratch that—my entire body is.

STOP.

Breathe.

What are the techniques you’ve learned for this?

Oh yeah—five senses.

I see… a blanket, the black screen of my TV, my closet.

I hear… the dog slurping water, nails tapping on the floor, footsteps.

I feel…

I smell…

Shit. I forgot the last one.

But I calmed down. It worked.

Sometimes, it’s that simple.

Sometimes, I need a couple more techniques.

And sometimes…

Sometimes, nothing works.

The room keeps shrinking, my breaths get shorter, the thoughts get faster.

And then the added panic—because I’m doing everything right, but the panic doesn’t stop.

And yet, even when it feels like there’s no end…

It ends.

This too shall pass.

Even the hardest moments will eventually soften.

I needed to remind myself of that today, when the snowball of chaos hit.

Because that’s what it felt like—a snowball.

Growing, rolling, spiraling.

But snowballs don’t roll forever.

Eventually, they stop.

And yeah, I had a giant mess to deal with—but the terror, the lack of control, that part was over.

The snow settled.

And I could finally assess the damage.

I took a hammer to that snowball and smashed it to nothing.

Being human is hard.

No matter your role in the world.

Some days, being a mom is the hardest thing.

And no matter what I do, I feel like I’m failing.

But then—

Tiny arms wrap around me.

A sleepy voice whispers, “Mommy, I love you.”

And suddenly, I’m on top of the world again.

The anxiety fades.

The self-doubt disappears.

Because this is the only place I want to be.

If you’re worried you’re doing it wrong, you’re already doing better than you think.

Because you care enough to worry.

I have to remind myself—this is my first time living this life.

I’m still learning.

There will be days I regret.

And there will be days I cherish.

But when I tuck them in at night—

When I brush the hair from their faces and hear their soft breathing—

When they reach for my hand without even thinking, because they know I will always be there—

I know I’m doing something right.

Being overwhelmed is a fucked-up gift if you look at it the right way.

At least I have things to overwhelm me.

At least I have them.

Being a mother is more than anyone can really describe.

There’s no perfect way.

But there are plenty of wrong ways.

Which makes it that much more important, that much more valuable.

Today, I felt every emotion of being a mom in a single 10-hour window.

And yeah, I spent a lot of it overwhelmed and stressed.

But I get to be their mom.

And I’ll take overwhelmed with love any day.