Most of my posts are the funny side of my life, because if I don’t laugh… I will absolutely end up in my pantry eating chocolate chips like a raccoon with a Wi-Fi password.

But not everything is fun and games.

Some days, life is less “Domestic Dramedy” and more “Domestic Documentary: How She Smiled While Internally Spiraling.”

If you’re here for the honest version, the one where the jokes and the tears share a couch, come sit with me a minute.

The part where I “have it together”

From the outside, I’m doing it.

I’m working. Paying bills. Cooking. Cleaning. Co-parenting. Keeping the peace. Attempting to converse with a 13-year-old boy who uses more slang than actual English.

I’m out here acting like a well-adjusted adult.

Meanwhile, inside my head:

Can we make it this month?

Is the mortgage going to be on time?

Will my old but faithful car make it?

Will something big happen we aren’t prepared for?

Why does nobody warn you that parenting is emotional CrossFit?

And yes… I’m doing that thing where you smile and nod while your brain quietly Googles: “How to be calm when you are not calm.”

Bills: the monthly jump scare

When your spouse has been sidelined because of an accident, the budget takes a hit. The kind where you sit down with your calculator and your banking app and start playing financial Tetris.

“Okay… if I move THIS bill here… and slide THIS one over there… and remove ALL joy from our lives for 14 days… we can do it.”

Then comes the routine:
Move stuff around. Stare at it. Pray. Pray again. Find a way through.

We can do it, but yes, we’re tightening the belt.

And I’m not complaining. Truly. I’m grateful we have a home to pay for, food to buy, and a family worth fighting for.

But gratitude doesn’t cancel stress. It just means you’re stressed while also saying, “Thank You, Lord,” through clenched teeth.

Silver Steve: my faithful anxiety buddy (who betrayed me in January)

And then there’s my car. My old but faithful car. The one I love like a family pet because it’s been with me through everything.

His name is Silver Steve.

And in January, Silver Steve cost me TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS.

Not “oops, a little repair.” Not “let’s swing by the shop.”
This was the kind of repair bill that makes you stare at the invoice like it’s written in ancient Greek and whisper, “Lord… is this a prank?”

But the worst part wasn’t just the money. It was the decision.

Because we had to choose:

Fix Silver Steve with money we did not have, or

Pull the plug and get a newer car… and add a car payment to the ever-growing bill pile.

And let me tell you, we currently do not have a car payment, and we did not want one. Not even a little.

A car payment right now would feel like adopting a loud pet that eats money and never cuddles.

So we spent the money and fixed him.

We prayed over him. We basically anointed him with oil and told him, “You will live and not die.”

The mental load: invisible, heavy, relentless

The thing nobody sees is that even on the days you look fine, you’re carrying a running list that never stops:

Groceries. Bills. Appointments. School stuff. Co-parenting logistics. Dinner. Who needs what. Who’s upset. Who’s overwhelmed. Who’s pretending not to be overwhelmed (me).

It’s like being the manager of a tiny company called “Everybody’s Feelings and Also the Lights Need to Stay On, LLC.”

And if you’re the default person, you know.

Parenting a teen: “I love you” meets “are you serious”

And then there’s my son. My sweet boy. My whole heart.

I love Spencer more than anything on this earth… but there are times I feel like a failure.

I know teens roll their eyes. I know they get snippy. I know they want independence while still needing a parent, not an adult friend.

But knowing it and surviving it are two different sports.

Some days he rolls his eyes and I swear I feel it in my spine.

Some days he gets that tone and I’m like… “Sir. I have been kind to you since birth. Do not test me.”

And then the spiral starts:

Does he hate me?

Am I ruining him?

Am I doing this wrong?

Is he going to write a memoir about my parenting someday?

It’s wild how one eye roll can turn into a full emotional court case in your head where you are both the defendant and the prosecutor.

The guilt: the thing that sneaks in at night

And let’s talk about the guilt.

The guilt I feel (although I know I shouldn’t) about raising my son in a broken home.

Now understand: both homes (mine and his dad’s) are loving. Both homes are safe. He is cared for. He is loved.

But I recognize it’s hard on Spencer, and that’s what I feel guilty about. And yes, I know guilt doesn’t help anything… but it still finds a way to trickle in sometimes.

Trust me when I say I am a much better mom now, but that doesn’t stop guilt from slipping in late at night like, “Hey girl. You up?”

“Fake it till you make it” and the panic you hide

Here’s the truth: sometimes I fake it.

I fake calm. I fake confidence. I fake “I’ve got this.”

I pretend the panicking is non-existent while I’m cooking dinner, loading the dishwasher, answering work emails, and trying to get a teenage boy to speak in full sentences.

Meanwhile, inside, I’m thinking:
“Are we okay? Are we going to be okay? What if something else happens?”

Sometimes keeping the household peaceful in the wake of finances and a teen makes me want to hide under the table and rock back and forth like a haunted Victorian doll.

But I can’t.

So I dust myself off and do what has to be done: work, pay bills, cook, clean… and try not to raise a serial killer.

The faith part: where I’m honest

I’m going to be real with y’all: I still struggle with turning everything over to God, although I know I’m supposed to.

And when I do, I get a peace that everything will be okay. Not that it will work out the way I want it to… but that it will be okay.

I forget to read my Bible and pray, and honestly, I think the overwhelm is sometimes God saying, “Turn to Me.” And you know what? It does 100% help.

Do I fail at it and forget? Yes.
Do I find my way back? Again, yes.

I forget sometimes, but I keep finding my way back. “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.” (1 Peter 5:7)

The rollercoaster feels never-ending, but I’m learning to take one day at a time.

Tomorrow is not promised, so let’s get through today.

Now I need y’all

I welcome y’alls comments, advice, and parenting strategies on coping with a teen and not ending up in my bed every night sobbing because I feel like my son hates me or I’m failing as a mom.

So please, if you’ve been here, tell me what helped.

Question for you:
What’s the one thing you do when life feels heavy, but you still have to keep going?

The Mental Load: Keeping the Peace While Quietly Panicking