It was New Year's Eve 2018, and I was standing at our kitchen door looking outside as our kids played in the yard. I’d spent the majority of the last month comatose, hiding under the covers on my bed. I didn’t have a word for what I was experiencing. It would be months before I would know to define it as caregiver burnout. But that didn’t matter in the moment. What mattered was this overwhelming feeling that the life we were living simply wasn’t sustainable. 

What’s the tool that we can use here? It’s a simple phrase that changed my life, “The story I’m telling myself is…”

The relationship that had once been so effortless was suddenly ice-cold. We began walking on eggshells. One wrong answer and we’d get the silent treatment for days.

I broke against that certainty.

I couldn’t even put my finger on what was so hard. I’d never experienced this before. I’d never had a child in my home that I felt incapable of loving. The more I tried, the farther away this feeling of love felt.

💛 Love is patient. Love is kind… But what happens when it doesn’t feel that way?

What if love sometimes feels messy, awkward, or even contradictory?

As a foster mom, I learned that love isn’t always easy, and that’s okay.

Can love be real if it doesn’t feel the same every time?
I’d love to hear from you…how do you define love?

Dreaming of a Boring Year (And Why That’s Okay)

I don’t need 2026 to be the year I climb Mount Everest…I need 2026 to be boring.