Since this month started, I had to remind myself of something very real. I am not broke. I am in an expensive season of my life. However, let me not sugarcoat this shit like it is some cute little financial lesson wrapped in a bow. I am mentally and emotionally drained. 

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If you found this blog post because you searched for something like new teacher advice, 3rd grade ELA teacher, teacher life balance, or how to survive the school year without crashing out, you are welcome here. Come over and get comfortable. 

Have you ever looked at your phone, seen his name or number because he is no longer a saved contact, and felt yourself get butterflies? You tell yourself that you are not entertaining his bullshit. You remind yourself of the tears. 

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For a long time, driving felt impossible because I had already learned how to build my whole life around not doing it. All I knew was keeping enough money to give somebody gas, catching the RTA bus, ordering an Uber, or walking if the distance looked manageable.

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My younger sister called me out of the blue and said she was at Target in Baton Rouge buying school supplies and wanted to stop by with our mama. The whole thing felt strange as hell. They do not live that far away. So, part of me kept wondering why it took a trip to Target for them to finally come out here. 

The day started with one simple responsibility. I needed to take Alina to get her blood work done. That was the plan. Get in the car. Handle the appointment. Then come back home. For years, that alone would have required checking rideshare prices first. 

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One of the hardest lessons I learned from being a stay-at-home wife and mother of two was how quietly dependence can turn into codependency. Staying home to raise my children was real work. There was somewhere along the way I stopped feeling like an equal partner. 

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For years, I thought a productive day meant checking every box, answering every message, keeping everybody happy, and somehow making it home with enough energy to prepare for tomorrow. You know what I am talking about the kind of schedule that makes your plans place on your calendar look like money and one of your eyes start twitching by 2:00 p.m.

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I knew I was done when asking for a second date started feeling like I was begging for basic effort.

Not groceries. Not money. Not a grand romantic gesture. I am talking about a day, time, a plan, and enough intention to show me I was not the only one trying to keep the connection alive.

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Dating as a single mom is not a sport and many people think they understand until they are living it. From the outside, it can look as if it is “just dating.” However, it comes with schedules, boundaries, childcare, judgment, hope, exhaustion, and sometimes a little bit of excitement that catches you off guard in the best way.

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June pounced all on my chest. I am not even being dramatic. This month had me working summer school. I was trying to keep my head above water. I was still trying to be somebody’s mama, somebody’s employee, somebody’s everything. I did all this while feeling like I was running on fumes with no real place to put the exhaustion down.

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Summer has started, and I am not even about to pretend like I am walking into it all soft, rested, and carefree. I am tired. I am triggered. I am anxious. But I am still trying to make something good out of it because what else am I supposed to do? Just stop living? No.

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Let me go ahead and say it, I am too busy providing to be out here proving a damn thing to anybody. I do not have the time, energy, or patience to be performing for validation. All while I am carrying real life responsibilities every day.

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Baby, let me tell you something I had to learn the hard way. I learned that peace will come a whole lot faster when you stop expecting shit from people, who keep showing you they are not about to help you.

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Sometimes life can feel as if it is throwing punches at you. The bills keep coming. You can hardly get outside to enjoy yourself. The responsibilities keep stacking up. Oh, then something unexpected happens on top of it all. 

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June is not arriving softly for me at all. It is meeting me in the middle of where responsibility, exhaustion, healing, and hard truth lies. I am stepping into this month as a mother. One who rarely gets a physical break. As a black woman carrying the full weight of providing. Oh, yeah and as someone learning how to keep going without pretending any of that is a walk in the park.

Therefore, as I step into June, I am being honest about what this season is asking of me. What I need to carry with intention. Also, what I need to finally leave behind.

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Sometimes single motherhood can feel overstimulating and heavy. You are trying to work, pay bills, raise your kids, make all the decisions! You carry so much emotionally. Honestly, it can feel as if you are doing it all by yourself. 

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May pulled a lot out of me. It made me confront the painful reality that the weight I carry is mine alone. I truly understand that consistency, love, and stability my children need begins and ends with me. As hard as that truth is to accept, it has also reminded me just how strong I have had to become.

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There’s a particular kind of whiplash that can come with entering your 30s. It is looking around at your actual life then quickly realizing it does not quite match the highlight reel you may have started building in your head or Pinterest saves in your early 20’s. 

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For all the praise women get for being strong, nobody talks openly about what that strength quietly costs. Folk’s love calling women “independent,” as if it is always some badge of honor, but baby, they do not say much about how lonely it can feel. I am talking about when you have become so used to carrying yourself that softness starts to feel like a luxury. 

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