When life felt relentless

I spent a long time feeling like I couldn’t leave the house.

My career was gone. Most of my time was spent co-regulating with my child, who was barely in school. On a good day, I might manage the drive to their alternative provision. But if they felt they couldn’t go, that was that.

The days blurred into each other. I was constantly firefighting. Endless paperwork, phone calls, chasing the local authority. Trying to secure the right support. Trying to stay on top of the housework – the mundane chores that tipped me over the edge more than they should have. And every minute of the day, my child wanted my attention. I was always on.

I was overwhelmed. Life felt relentless. I didn’t recognise myself anymore.

At the time it felt like nothing I did made a difference. Like I was constantly doing and yet never getting anywhere.

But I had to start looking differently at my days. I had to start appreciating the little things I did. Really noticing them. Reminding myself that they had value. That even if no one else saw them, I did.

A load of washing. A school email chased. Dinner made. The floor hovered. The fact I got through another day without breaking.

They might have looked mundane from the outside, but they were constant acts of love. Each one was me showing up for my family. Each one was proof that I hadn’t stopped trying.

And that was worth something.

It wasn’t a big dramatic shift. But it was the beginning of me understanding that I needed more than just survival. That I wanted to feel present again. More connected. That even when everything felt out of my control, I could reclaim something for myself.

I started to feel a tiny bit more grounded. A tiny bit more capable. And that gave me just enough to keep going.