Am I enough?
I’m giving motherhood my everything.
Each and every day I surrender what feels like all of me to this journey, this beautiful, messy, overwhelming, exhausting, wild journey, and I oftentimes wonder if it’s sufficient. If my efforts are sufficient. If my sacrifices are sufficient. If I’m sufficient.
Because it feels as though I’m not.
When the dishes are piled high in the sink, when the laundry has yet to be put away, when the floors are littered with crumbs from dinner—I can’t help but believe that I’ve failed. I’m failing. I’m a failure.
And these feelings of inadequacy have taken me completely by surprise. I never expected to feel this way in motherhood; it’s clear that I had utterly skewed expectations of this whole journey. The stress in that, the loneliness that I’ve experienced in believing that I’m not enough for my children and husband, they once consumed me.
But I want you to hear me, sweet Mama.
If this is you—if you’re drowning in a sea that you weren’t at all prepared for, if you’re flailing about in motherhood simply waiting for someone to throw you a life vest so that you might stay afloat for even just a moment longer—you don’t have to.
Your worth isn’t in doing.
Your worth isn’t in how much you accomplish each day.
Your worth isn’t in how clean your house is.
Your worth isn’t in how shiny your floors are.
Your worth isn’t in how efficiently you do your family’s laundry.
Your worth isn’t in how many nights a week you make dinner.
Your worth isn’t in any of these things.
So cut it off. Sever the ties that bind you. Release yourself from the unnecessary weight and pressure, from the lie that you must do enough to be enough.
Because you, Mama, are enough.
Not because of what you do, but because of who you are.
You are a masterpiece. You were created for this, to tackle this season with both grit and grace, to handle the unknown like no one else can.
And it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to not know what the heck you’re doing. It’s okay to be absolutely exhausted by it all.
But it’s not okay to put your worth where it doesn’t belong.
That sense of drowning? It’s a really, really difficult place to be, and it’s an even more difficult place to love from.
I don’t know about you, but when I feel like I can’t quite catch my breath, when I’m consumed by my own needs and ensuring my own survival—it’s difficult to love others well.
And that love? That’s all your family really needs.
When it’s all said and done, your kids won’t remember clean dishes or laundry—they’ll remember you. Your heart. Your love.
So love well, Mama, and let the rest go.
And remember: you are enough. Just as you are, the incredible creation that is you.
You are enough.