Life’s not always a beach.

I fell a part last week.

I had been treading water for so long, that my body, my mind, and my spirit gave out and I let the overwhelm wash me away.

Pretending, avoiding, binging, and raging wasn’t working. I made no progress as the water kept rising deeper, playing a losing game and having no fun while doing it.

On Friday, as I broke up my 100th fight of the day before 9 am, the dam broke and the tears wouldn’t stop. Everything felt so insurmountable, hard, and hopeless.

As I tally my version of hard, I know I am not the world’s only victim, we all are in one way or another. Suffering is a part of the human experience. We are all living our version of hard every day.

However, 26 weeks pregnant with twins feels like the end of pregnancy with the aches and pains with weeks to go. Getting up and down is running a mile. Standing for more than 2 minutes is back-breaking and I don’t know what my pelvis is doing but there is certainly a lot I could describe there as well. I still get near-daily headaches. I am hypertensive and anemic and have symptoms I could whine about for hours.

All of this with a 2-year-old who has newly discovered full tantrums, does not listen to anything, recently decided going down for a nap is torture, and loves his sister as much as he can’t stand to see her relaxed and playing. Then an almost 4-year-old who never stops touching and bothering her brother, questions and challenges everything, and can’t go 3 minutes without needing something.

Sitting at home all day, days in a row, with the kids is prison. They get stir-crazy, under each other’s skin, and prepare my paperwork for the looney bin. Going out with them, can either be the best day ever or a mistake paid for by my inability to move for 24 hours after.

Yes, I know, everything I just described is developmentally normal. I believe in many truths. My kids are fantastic, I wouldn’t trade them for the world. They are so smart and funny, and they boil me down to my last nerve.

Now let’s combine the pressure of maintaining a functioning home, preparing for 2 more babies, and the financial strain of being alive in this day and age.

The to-do list is never-ending. Daunting. Haunting. Especially when I am pregnant as hell and worth less than a dollar 80% of the time.

There has been no thriving. If I am being honest, I wouldn’t even call this surviving. I am living at the end of my rope. Every single small inconvenience or hiccup could be the thing that tosses me over the ledge.

I hate who I’ve been.

There is no perfect parent, we are all doing our best and I am so ready and willing to give that grace to any other person in the world but it’s not so easy when critiquing myself.

My best has looked like shit and it feels over-generous and frankly, a lie to call it all I had in me because there is so much shame attached.

I am doing everything I know I shouldn’t. I am giving into knee-jerk impulses to react and yell. I feel like I spend my entire day raising my voice and disciplining my kids. My reptilian brain has been in charge. Every situation inspires my fight or flight response, my stress hormones are in overdrive, and small challenges feel like life or death within my body.

Hence, meeting my snapping point.

Finally admitting to myself how immensely hard, sad, and defeating my life has felt released the facade that I had things under control. I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. I’ve been saying it’s going to be fine because it has to be. This is true, but this “fine ness” is not going to come on it’s on. I can’t keep my head in the sand and wait for the better part to come. I have to find the better for myself right now.

Step one was opening my eyes, stepping out of the dark, and saying to myself… and others…. and now the internet at large, “Hey, I am struggling. Life feels really hard for me right now”.

I am choosing the shed the weight and worry of judgment. I am shattering the perception of doing well. We all hurt. We all struggle. Let’s not do it hidden away.

What I am going through is hard. It’s okay to admit that. I don’t think I have ever been challenged to make it through each individual day as much before. Even on my ugliest days, I am doing it. That’s something to be proud of.

Thanks to social media, and especially in mommy culture, we only want to present our most wonderful selves. But the incredibly beautiful things happen when we show our ugly too. Me saying “This shit sucks and I feel angry all the time” gives someone else the opportunity to drop their shame and say heck yeah, sister. Then there are two of us walking around a little lighter through the release of validation and community.

Name it to tame it.

I felt so much better after my 3-day breakdown, mostly because I was acknowledging what was happening to me. I didn’t necessarily do anything to make it better yet, but I stopped fighting the fact that I was struggling and surrendered to it. I let myself feel the heavy, icky feelings that I was binge-watching TV to avoid. I was honest with myself, my husband, my parents, and my friends and I cried.

Being sad isn’t bad. Feelings aren’t good or bad things, they are what they are. As humans, we are meant to feel the spectrum. Spending time and energy fighting certain feelings actually keeps us there longer as opposed to riding the wave.

This wave was a tsunami. I weathered it. Its wreckage gave me a (kinda) clean slate. A renewal of energy and focus.

I woke up this morning knowing I had to make choices that helped me feel better. I refused to feel stuck and negative. The weather was going to be gorgeous and the sun always fixes me right up, no matter the problem.

I pushed every excuse out of my mind and cleared every hurdle, as I decided the kids and I were going to the beach. If I would have tried hard enough I am sure I could’ve found someone to come with us to help me, but I needed to do this on my own. I had to remind myself that I could. I do hard things every day, this is no different. I can do difficult things and I can even enjoy myself while I do them.

I packed as lightly as I could while still having everything we needed. I had our new shubumi sun shade that I never used before and went back and forth about what to do with it. In the end, I figured this was a part of the challenge that I was searching for. I kissed my husband as I left and told him this was either going to go super well or be the worst choice I could’ve made.

I repeated “This is going to be a good day because I am deciding it is” on a loop like a mantra on the way. We got to the beach, I tucked everything onto my shoulders the best I could and wished on every star I’d ever seen that both kids would walk and hold my hand until we got on the beach.

and. they. friggin. did. it.

I set up the new shade tent as they happily found seashells. Seeing it blow in the wind was how I imagine Francis Scott Key felt when he wrote The Star Spangled Banner. I was at my happy place, my children were angels (how do I ever have issues with them?), and life was good. We stayed for almost 3 hours, joyously reading, playing in the sand, splashing in the water, and eating a picnic lunch.

The panic began to creep up when I imagined having to pack everything up and get us all back to the truck. No matter your condition, the voyage back is always harder than getting there and we were also passed normal nap time. I chose to be positive. This has been great, even if this next part is hard, I’ve had a wonderful time and I am clinging to that.

Let me tell you. I was able to put away the Shubumi shade on my own while sitting down the whole time. I can not recommend this thing enough. I was back to feeling like the badass I know I am with that one accomplishment. Everything was loaded up, balanced as best as possible- let the waddling commence, and please please please children, do not make me carry you.

and. they. friggin. did. it.

We made it to the truck, dusted off, changed clothes, and got comfy in car seats with no fuss or fight- other than my extremely labored breathing.

A win is a win. Today was like the World Series for me. Getting a hit when down by one, runner on third, two outs. I saved the game. Dump the Gatorade on me.

I feel so detached from the person I was just yesterday who had tears streaming down her face as the toddler pushed and screamed fighting going down a nap. The girl who couldn’t talk about anything remotely difficult without turning into a blubbering mess.

However, if I’m that person again tomorrow, that’s okay.

Everything is temporary.

The pain. The heaviness. The happy moments. The laughter. The excitement.

All of it, good and bad, is temporary.

That’s a part of being alive. It’s not right to expect things to always feel happy and light. There is no shame in struggling and dark days.

Shame comes from fighting it.

Life right now is hard. That is a fact. It is also beautiful and I’d want nothing different. I don’t know how I’m going to do it all in these following months and years, but I am certain I’ll make it through.

I am going to crumble, stumble, and be humbled along the way. I hope remember not to fight it.

Not every day is beach, nor is it a storm.