She wakes up every morning and cooks for everyone as a routine. She’d wash her children’s clothes when she’d seen the laundry is piling up for way too long. She works 8 hours a day. She’s so used to doing so much for her children that she doesn’t know when to stop.
I don’t know how she does it everyday.
And here I am lying on my bed, typing this because I was supposed to commit to this project self. Mentally exhausted. Defeated.
Today I admit, I feel defeated. Yes I wrote about self-worth yesterday but my own words started eating me inside-out.
But then I’ve realised something. I don’t need to feel good every day. Sometimes, I just need to just be. Accept that I feel sad. Accept that I am exhausted without having to understand the reason why. Accept that it’s okay to cry if that would make me feel better in the end.
It’s okay to be sad. You’re just human.
I don’t know how she does it everyday, though. My mother. If only that much strength can be transmitted to my blood—to my DNA.