Raising Myself While Raising Him: Strength, Therapy, and the Messy Middle

This morning started earlier than I planned — not with a sunrise meditation or journaling, but with a crying toddler climbing into bed and turning my body into a jungle gym. I tried to soak in the sweet cuddles between the knee jabs and giggles, clinging to the idea of just fifteen more minutes of rest.

We made our way downstairs. He asked for yogurt, and while I scrambled eggs and made toast, he climbed the dining table, conquered the kitchen island, and explored the living room like a tiny, giggling tornado. Water spilled. Food hit the floor. But so did love — with hugs in between chaos, and joy tucked into the mess.

I tried to sneak in a workout in the basement while he ran laps, tossed toys, and occasionally mimicked my squats. We fed the dog together. He got it mostly right — until he dumped the dog food into the water bowl. But I didn’t get upset. I reminded myself he’s learning — curious, wild, and still figuring out how the world works. Just like me.

That’s what this blog is about — showing up in the mess. I’m a mom in the thick of toddlerhood, working through childhood trauma in therapy, trying to break generational cycles while building strength — physically, emotionally, and spiritually. Some days I feel powerful. Some days I feel undone. But I know I’m not alone.

I’m writing to create space for other moms doing the heavy lifting — of healing, of raising kids, of carrying the weight of past and future. If you’ve ever tried to squeeze in self-care between snack time and breakdowns — this space is for you.

I’m a mom who loves to move — in the gym, in my basement, or out on the field. Fitness is my reset button. It helps me stay present, process hard days, and reconnect with my body when my mind feels scattered. It’s not about being perfect or fitting a mold — it’s about feeling strong in the chaos.

I’m also on a journey of healing. Therapy has become a space where I’m learning to rewrite the story I grew up with, so I don’t pass those chapters on to my son. Every day, I try to parent with intention, lead with softness, and break the cycles that no longer belong in our home.

Motherhood, healing, and personal growth aren’t always graceful — they’re often loud, messy, exhausting, and full of self-doubt. There are days I question if I’m doing any of it right. But I remind myself: struggling doesn’t mean I’m failing. It means I’m doing the work. And if you’re in the thick of it too — trying to unlearn, rebuild, and still show up with love — this space is for you. We’re not meant to do this alone. We’re meant to grow through it, together.