How Are You, Really?

I sat in therapy recently and finally said a sentence I’d rehearsed a hundred times in my head but never dared to voice:

I want a break from mothering.

Not a trip to the spa kinda break. A real one.
In my mind I’m on a quiet beach with no schedules, no playtime requests, no partner to consult, no one’s needs but my own. Waves in the distance, sun on my skin, silence so complete I can hear my heartbeat.

For months I shoved that picture to the back of my brain. I told myself it was selfish. What would my partner think? Would my daughter interpret “self‑care” as abandonment? The thought looped until fear became fact.

Then a truth landed: my little girl’s first seven years already look nothing like my own. She is secure, loved, resilient. My absence for a week or even two would not shatter her world. It might actually model healthy boundaries.

So why was I stuck? Because I’d stapled “rest” to “desertion.” Somewhere along my story I learned that tired women keep pushing, that good mothers never step off duty, that needing space equals betrayal.

Can you see how heavy that lie is?

Let’s turn the mirror on ourselves

• Where is fatigue whispering that it’s time to pause?
• Which story about “good” parenting or partnering, or working, keeps you grinding past empty?
• What would you say, write, or do if no one’s judgment weighed on you today?

Press a hand to your chest. Feel that steady rhythm? It’s proof you’re still here, still worthy of care, still allowed to breathe.

Ask yourself, gently and honestly:

How am I, really?

And if the answer is exhausted, that’s not failure. It’s information.
It might even be the invitation your soul has been waiting for.