06/05/2026
This morning started with coffee.
Not because I wanted it.
Because I needed it.
I sat there convincing myself that today was going to be a productive day. I had things to do. Kids to take care of. A house that somehow needs cleaning every single day despite nobody respecting my hard work for more than fifteen minutes.
I drank my coffee.
Started getting ready.
And then it happened.
That feeling.
The one I’ve learned not to ignore.
First came the exhaustion.
Not normal tired.
Not “I stayed up too late” tired.
The kind of tired that feels like someone unplugged your batteries without warning.
Then I noticed the rash starting to show up on my hands.
And that’s when I knew.
A flare was coming.
Within what felt like minutes, the weakness started settling into my body. My arms felt heavy. My legs felt heavy. Even simple things suddenly felt like they required more energy than I had to give.
So here I am.
Back in bed.
After my morning coffee.
Before I even made it through getting ready for the day.
And the hardest part isn’t the fatigue.
It’s that mom life doesn’t stop.
The laundry still needs washed.
The dishes still need done.
The kids still need snacks, drinks, help, attention, and approximately 47 things every five minutes.
Thankfully, my husband is home today and can help carry some of the load.
And honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without him on days like this.
But I’d be lying if I said days like today don’t scare me.
In August, I’ll be starting my first teaching assistant job.
Right now I’m also looking for a summer job.
And while part of me is excited, another part of me wonders:
What happens if I have a flare at work?
What happens if I can’t push through?
What happens if my body decides it has other plans?
Living with a chronic illness means constantly trying to build a future while never fully trusting what your body will do tomorrow.
Some days I’m hopeful.
Some days I’m terrified.
Today is one of those terrified days.
But for now, I’m going to rest.
I’m going to let my husband help.
I’m going to remind myself that needing help doesn’t make me weak.
And I’m going to believe that somehow we’ll figure it out one day at a time.
Because that’s what moms do.
Even when we’re running on empty.
This morning started with coffee.
Not because I wanted it.
Because I needed it.
I sat there convincing myself that today was going to be a productive day. I had things to do. Kids to take care of. A house that somehow needs cleaning every single day despite nobody respecting my hard work for more than fifteen minutes.
I drank my coffee.
Started getting ready.
And then it happened.
That feeling.
The one I’ve learned not to ignore.
First came the exhaustion.
Not normal tired.
Not “I stayed up too late” tired.
The kind of tired that feels like someone unplugged your batteries without warning.
Then I noticed the rash starting to show up on my hands.
And that’s when I knew.
A flare was coming.
Within what felt like minutes, the weakness started settling into my body. My arms felt heavy. My legs felt heavy. Even simple things suddenly felt like they required more energy than I had to give.
So here I am.
Back in bed.
After my morning coffee.
Before I even made it through getting ready for the day.
And the hardest part isn’t the fatigue.
It’s that mom life doesn’t stop.
The laundry still needs washed.
The dishes still need done.
The kids still need snacks, drinks, help, attention, and approximately 47 things every five minutes.
Thankfully, my husband is home today and can help carry some of the load.
And honestly, I don’t know what I’d do without him on days like this.
But I’d be lying if I said days like today don’t scare me.
In August, I’ll be starting my first teaching assistant job.
Right now I’m also looking for a summer job.
And while part of me is excited, another part of me wonders:
What happens if I have a flare at work?
What happens if I can’t push through?
What happens if my body decides it has other plans?
Living with a chronic illness means constantly trying to build a future while never fully trusting what your body will do tomorrow.
Some days I’m hopeful.
Some days I’m terrified.
Today is one of those terrified days.
But for now, I’m going to rest.
I’m going to let my husband help.
I’m going to remind myself that needing help doesn’t make me weak.
And I’m going to believe that somehow we’ll figure it out one day at a time.
Because that’s what moms do.
Even when we’re running on empty.
