Finding Forty

I am raising children
and meeting every version of myself along the way

some days feel like growth
some days feel like barely holding it together in soft lighting

my life is loud
full of small hands, scattered toys, and needs that come before my own

I am the one who remembers
the one who anticipates
the one who keeps it all moving, even when I feel still

there’s a weight to that
a quiet, invisible kind of carrying

I believe in breaking cycles
but no one tells you how heavy the breaking feels while you’re doing it

I am tired in a way that doesn’t ask for attention
just space
just a moment

and still—
I show up
I love deeply
I choose this life again and again

somewhere between the mess and the meaning
between unraveling and becoming

I am still here
still trying
still finding forty 🤍