I’m just a girl who once dreamed of becoming successful. Not in the glossy, magazine-cover kind of way, but in a way that felt honest and true. I dreamed of a life where I could do meaningful work, love and be loved, and be present for the people who mattered most.
I never aimed to be the perfect wife or mom. I never felt the pressure to live up to that title. But I did, and still do, want to be there for every milestone. I want to be the one cheering loudly during school performances, preparing their favorite comfort meals on tough days, and having the kind of home that always feels safe and warm. I want to make sure my family has everything they need, not just in material things, but in love, support, and time.
In my mind, my ideal day is simple. I’d start it by driving my daughters to school, music playing softly in the background as we chat about their day ahead. I’d come home, fit in a quick workout, then savor a quiet breakfast while mapping out the day’s priorities. Work would be purposeful, with enough breathing space to think, create, and contribute without constant chaos. And in the afternoon, I’d fetch the kids again, winding down the day with unhurried conversations over dinner and quiet, present time spent with my husband and kids.
I don’t take for granted the trust others place in me. Being seen as “the reliable one” is something I appreciate. It means people believe I can be counted on. But I need to admit this, out loud and without guilt: I don’t want to be the default person everyone turns to for help, to vent, to unload frustrations. I don’t want to carry other people’s emotional weights just because I’m capable. It drains me. It’s heavy. And some days, I’m already carrying more than I let on.
And there’s something else I’ve had to learn the hard way. No matter how honestly I speak, no matter how vulnerable I try to be, there will always be people who choose not to believe me. That hurts more than I often let on. But I’ve come to understand that I cannot rely on anyone else to validate my truth. Because I know the whole story. I know the intentions behind my actions, the silent battles I’ve fought, the weight of what I carry behind closed doors. And that has to be enough.
This isn’t me turning away from people. I’ll always be here for those I love. But I’m learning to protect my peace. To draw boundaries not out of selfishness, but out of self-preservation. Because I deserve to feel light too. I deserve to feel whole.
If you’ve ever felt the same, I see you. Let’s remind each other that it’s okay to choose rest over responsibility sometimes, to say “not today” without shame, and to be both reliable and soft with ourselves.
After all, I’m just a girl who had a dream, and that dream includes not losing myself along the way.
💬 I’d Love to Hear from You
Have you ever felt like the default strong one? Do you find yourself constantly holding space for others, even when you need support too?
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