Carrying More Than I Can Hold

It’s 2:30pm and I’m on 32%.
I’ve got a four-hour window where my son’s with his friend.
And I don’t know how I’m going to make it through the rest of the day — let alone bedtime — without shouting. Without collapsing. Without losing the part of me that wants to love him well.

This is why I don’t look forward to spending time with him.
And of course he feels that.
He thinks it means I don’t love him.

But it’s not that.
It’s just that I’m already gone before the evening even arrives.
I’m trying to parent with a nervous system that’s been running on empty for years.

And now I understand my dad.
Maybe he didn’t have the words.
Maybe he didn’t have the tools.
But I see the same tiredness in myself — the same disconnect that comes not from not caring, but from caring so much it hurts.

My mum avoided everything.
Wanted the credit without doing the work.
I hate her for that. I’m allowed to say that.
I don’t live in that hate, but I won’t pretend she was something she wasn’t.

I know I’m in survival mode.
I know tomorrow won’t be much better — a kids’ party, more noise, more drain.
But at least now I know what I’m carrying.

And if my ex ever asks to switch back to 50/50, I’ll tell her:
I can’t.
Not because I don’t want to.
Because I physically can’t.
Because I’m not shirking responsibility — I’m holding more than most people can even imagine.
And if she truly understood that, maybe we’d still be together.
But she didn’t. And she left.
And it hurt more than I’ve ever let on.

After our son was born, I tried to provide in the only way I knew how.
She said I was broken.
She left like my brokenness was an attack.

But I wasn’t attacking.
I was just trying to survive.

And somehow, I’ve kept going.
I don’t know how.
If I didn’t have my son, I don’t think I would’ve made it this far.

And now, I don’t get to ask what life is “supposed” to be.
I just carry it.
For him.
As well as I can.
Because he deserves better than what I got.

And even though my dad got it wrong — I think he got just enough right for me to be here now, trying to get it a bit more right for my son.

That’s the lineage I’m choosing to honour.

---

Reflective Question for You:
What part of yourself are you still carrying alone — and what would it mean to be honest about how heavy it really is?