I woke up this morning with almost paralyzing anxiety.

Over what?

Over nothing.

Well, over nothing I could pinpoint.

Perhaps it’s just that being a parent in 2021,

or if we’re being inclusive here,

being a parent, in general,

is such a heavy job.

A job everyone tells you shouldn’t feel like a job.

A job that you need to do while you’re also doing a job that makes you money.

A job that you should feel grateful you’ve got.

A job that takes all of your energy, time, money and brain power.

I wanna be the best parent I can for my children.

I wanna be the best wife I can for my husband.

I wanna be a good daughter and daughter-in-law.

I wanna be a good sister and friend.

I wanna be a good grandchild and niece.

I wanna be a good neighbor and community member.

I wanna be a productive member of society.

I wanna be a good human.

I want to be a good human who’s got a rocksolid relationship with another good human while us two imperfect messy (but good!) humans bust our sagging biscuits to raise good humans.

And I think that’s where my [undiagnosed] generalized anxiety comes from.

This deep rooted desire to be all that I can and want to be and to nurture my children to know and want the same, but minus the anxiety such expectations bring with it.

But I found something that works…

something that heals…

something that helps…

and it’s the best medicine for the

all-too-familiar,

easily-brought-on,

all-encompassing unease us parents tend to feel.

What is it?

It’s knowing that all that we are right now is all we ever need to be, because we’re great when we’re trying, and we’re always trying.