There are days when no matter how hard I try, it feels like it’s never enough. Today is one of those days. I’ve been fighting to create a better life for myself and my daughter, but every step I take seems to lead to criticism instead of encouragement.
I’ve been applying for jobs closer to my mom, hoping to bridge the distance and make things easier for everyone. But according to her, they’re still not close enough. I can’t afford to move yet because my credit is in rough shape, so I took a second job in my area to tackle my bills and improve my financial standing. It felt like a step in the right direction—a proactive way to start fixing things.
But when I shared this with my mom, instead of understanding or support, I was met with anger. She told me I should be working four jobs if I’m serious about moving closer. Her words cut deeper than I expected. She called me a bad mom, questioned how I could live so far from my daughter, and said things that made me feel small and incapable.
It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced postpartum depression just how much of a toll it takes on you. A few weeks ago, I finally started brushing my teeth regularly again. That might seem small, but it was a huge milestone for me. I’m trying so hard to get back to a place where I can feel like myself, but the weight of PPD is relentless.
I feel so much guilt and shame. This isn’t how I imagined motherhood. I didn’t plan for this distance, this struggle, or these feelings. All I want is to be with my daughter and feel like I’m doing right by her. But how can I do that when I’m barely surviving myself?
Balancing the pressure of being a mom, trying to fix my finances, working two jobs, and managing my mental health feels impossible. I’m constantly questioning how I’m supposed to switch careers, find housing, and be the parent I want to be when I can hardly keep my head above water.
I know I’m not alone in feeling this way, and maybe someone out there reading this is in the same boat. If that’s you, know this: you’re trying, and that’s enough. Some days, all we can do is put one foot in front of the other. And on the days when even that feels too hard, it’s okay to pause and take a breath.
I don’t have the answers, and I’m still figuring things out. But I refuse to believe that my struggles define my worth as a mom. I love my daughter, and I’m doing everything I can to create a better life for her. That has to count for something.
The Fourth Trimester 