Hey love.
Sit down. Yes — actually sit down.
I know you’re probably reading this standing in the kitchen, staring at a sink full of dishes you swear you JUST washed yesterday, while a child screams in the background about a sibling “breathing too loud.”
So just… sit. For a second.
You deserve a moment where nobody touches you, nobody needs you, and nobody asks you impossible questions like,
“Mom, why do clouds have feelings?”
I want to talk about this phase of life — the one where you’re young, exhausted, traumatized, healing, hopeful, overloaded, and somehow still expected to function like a fully formed adult with their shit together.
Let’s be honest: motherhood in your twenties is basically being on a diet of coffee, chaos, therapy, and dreams you’re trying to chase in between wiping butts and negotiating with toddlers like you’re part of the UN.
You’re navigating:
• kids
• court
• mental health
• adulthood
• healing
• trying not to lose your mind
• AND writing a novel
Like… what kind of superhuman bullshit is that?
If there were awards for “young mom who is trying her absolute best while everything around her is on fire,” you would have a shelf of trophies by now.
Let’s break this down, because you deserve credit:
1. Being a young mom of three is already a full-time job.
People don’t get it.
They think you pop out babies and suddenly become a wise old oak tree with endless patience and wisdom.
No.
You are 23.
You are still figuring out your own shit while trying to raise small humans who think the floor is lava and life is a conspiracy.
You don’t get breaks.
You don’t get “me time.”
Your kids think privacy is a myth.
The fact you get anything done at all?
Miraculous.
2. Navigating the Ontario justice system on top of it?
Please.
That alone deserves hazard pay and emotional support snacks.
Half the time you’re calling numbers that don’t exist, reading documents that make no sense, and trying to show up to appointments on time while children actively sabotage your plans by losing their shoes, spilling cereal on their shirts, or deciding to have a meltdown because their sock “feels weird.”
And you’re supposed to just… do all that?
While healing trauma?
While exhausted?
While ALSO trying to build a better future?
Girl.
That is Olympic-level stamina.
3. Add mental health to the mix and you’ve basically unlocked “hard mode” in life.
You’re doing all of this while dealing with depression, anxiety, trauma, emotional exhaustion, and the general inner chaos of a person who feels deeply and thinks too much.
And yet — here you are.
Morning after morning.
Day after day.
Trying again.
Even when your brain is like, “No thank you, I would like to lie on the floor forever.”
You’re still trying.
Do you understand how powerful that is?
4. And THEN… you’re trying to write a whole-ass novel?
A. Novel.
Not a journal entry.
Not a Facebook post.
A BOOK.
While raising kids?
While dealing with court?
While healing childhood and adult trauma?
While having your mental health play tug-of-war with your motivation?
Baby, that is not normal.
That is ambition.
That is talent.
That is badass energy.
Do you know how many people dream of writing a book but never do it because they “don’t have time”?
You’re writing one between diaper changes and therapy sessions.
That is iconic behavior.
Now let’s talk about the part nobody ever acknowledges:
You are doing all of this with absolutely no fucking manual.
No guidebook.
No blueprint.
No mentor.
No stable system catching you.
Just you — and your stubborn, messy, hopeful, exhausted heart trying to do better for your kids and yourself.
You’re learning how to be a better version of you WHILE life is still throwing shit at you.
You don’t get to pause the game and fix yourself first.
You have to heal in real time.
In the chaos.
In the noise.
In the stress.
In the 3am crying sessions.
In the moments where it feels like everything is too much.
And yet… you’re still becoming someone stronger.
I hope you see that.
Even on the days where you feel like a disaster.
Even when you yell.
Even when you cry in the car.
Even when you feel lost.
Even when the system feels impossible.
You are still growing.
You are still healing.
You are still choosing a better life every single day.
That is what matters.
🧠 Weekly Exercise: The “Holy Shit, Look At Me Surviving” Reflection
This week, I want you to do something simple but powerful.
Write down five things you survived this week — not accomplished… survived.
Examples:
• “Got all the kids ready even though my brain felt like soup.”
• “Didn’t cuss out the worker who pushed my buttons.”
• “Showed up to an appointment I wanted to bail on.”
• “Didn’t text back that toxic person.”
• “Fed everyone even when I had no energy.”
• “Didn’t spiral as hard as I could’ve.”
• “Wrote one paragraph in my book.”
These survival moments are your strength in motion.
See them.
Claim them.
Celebrate them.
💬 Interactive Question of the Week
Comment below:
What’s one moment this week where you shocked yourself with your own strength or patience?
(Even if it was you not committing a felony when someone deserved it.)
Your answer might help another mom feel less alone in this chaos.
Before you go…
You’re doing life on a difficulty level most people will never understand.
You are breaking cycles.
You are healing wounds.
You are raising tiny humans with love even when you feel empty.
You are fixing your life piece by piece.
You are writing your future — literally and metaphorically.
And even if nobody else says it:
I’m proud of you.
So proud.
You are not failing.
You are transforming.
One messy, loud, beautiful day at a time.
—The Healing Chaos
“You’re allowed to be a masterpiece and a work in progress at the same time.”
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