I am a mother to wonderfully challenging children. I married my best friend. Eternal Student. Amateur Photographer. Friend. Caregiver. I taught English in public schools for 2 years and am now working at home proofreading and copywriting and working in financial services. I write about my experiences in life and those of loved ones.
I shared it without thinking twice. A GFM for my former father-in- law, and then, a friend of a friend. A family I didn’t know personally but recognized in the way you recognize anyone who looks like people you love. The photo was from a better day — a birthday, maybe, or a holiday. Everyone smiling. No one knowing what was coming. I hit share. I donated what I could. I scrolled on. And then I sat with it. Because here’s the thing nobody says out loud when those posts go around: A GoFundMe is not a plan. It’s what happens when there wasn’t one. I’ve been in this industry long enough to know what the aftermath looks like. Not the GoFundMe stage — the stage after that. When the campaign closes. When the casseroles stop coming. When the world moves on and that family is still sitting inside a life that financially collapsed overnight. The mortgage didn’t pause for grief. The utility companies didn’t send condolences. The kids still needed things. And the person who held it all together was gone. That’s the part that doesn’t make it into the fundraiser description. The slow, grinding weight of trying to rebuild a life when the foundation was pulled out from under you — with no parachute, no cushion, nothing but the kindness of strangers and a Donate button. I’m not here to scare you. I’m here because I’ve had the hard conversations — the ones that happen after it’s too late to do anything about it — and I would rather have an uncomfortable conversation with you now than a heartbreaking one later. This is what I do. Not because it’s a job, but because it matters in a way that is genuinely hard to explain until you’ve watched a family try to survive without it. There is a solution for where you are right now — whatever your budget, whatever your stage of life: Mortgage Protection — so your family keeps the roof over their heads, no matter what happens to you. Final Expense Coverage — so the people grieving you aren’t also drowning in bills they didn’t see coming. Living Benefits — so a diagnosis doesn’t also become a financial crisis while you’re still here fighting. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You just have to start. If you’re in Texas, I’d love to sit down with you and find something that actually fits your life and your budget — no pressure, no jargon, just an honest conversation. If you’re outside of Texas, I have trusted colleagues across the country and I will personally make sure you’re connected to someone who will take care of you. Your family deserves more than a Donate button. Let’s build something that holds. Drop a comment or send me a message. Let’s talk
Sometimes a song doesn’t arrive as a fully formed idea. It slips in sideways. A single line. A feeling you can’t shake. A truth that feels a little too loud to say out loud.
For me, one of those moments came wrapped in a lyric that hit harder than I expected:
“If I’m too much, go find less.”
I can’t take credit for that line — it comes from Elyse Meyers — but the second I heard it, it felt like someone had reached into my chest and put words to something I’d been carrying for a long time.
Even though I’d had similar thoughts, I’d never said them that clean, that sharp. That honest.
And that’s what stuck with me.
Because it didn’t come from confidence. Not at first. It came from that raw, uncomfortable place where you realize how often you’ve been shrinking yourself to fit into spaces that were never built for you.
I’ve spent years being a lot of things to a lot of people. Mom. Wife. Student. Teacher. The reliable one. The strong one. The one who keeps it all together. And somewhere in all of that, there were pieces of me I kept sanding down. Softer. Quieter. Easier to hold.
More “acceptable.”
But that line? That line was the snap.
It was the moment the narrative shifted from “Am I too much?” to “Why am I apologizing for being enough?”
That’s where the song started to take shape.
—
The First Spark
When I wrote that lyric, I wasn’t thinking about structure or genre or where it would fit. I was thinking about every time I bit my tongue. Every time I softened a truth. Every time I made myself smaller so someone else could stay comfortable.
That one line carried all of that.
So instead of building a song around an idea, I built the idea around that line.
What does it look like to stop apologizing?
What does it sound like to own your edges instead of hiding them?
What does it feel like to finally say, this is who I am — take it or leave it?
—
Letting It Get a Little Wild
At first, the song leaned reflective. Almost restrained. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized that wasn’t honest.
Because the truth isn’t quiet.
The truth, for me, was a little feral.
It had teeth.
It laughed too loud. It made questionable choices. It lit the match instead of walking away from the fire.
So I leaned into that.
I let the verses get bolder. Messier. More unapologetic. I stopped trying to make the narrator likable and started making her real.
That’s when the song found its voice.
—
Writing for Me, Not for Approval
There’s a version of songwriting where you’re always thinking about the listener. What will they like? What will land? What will sell?
And then there’s the version where you tell the truth first.
This song demanded the second version.
It wasn’t about being polished. It wasn’t about being palatable. It was about being honest in a way that felt a little dangerous.
Because if I’m being real, the line “If I’m too much, go find less” isn’t just a lyric.
It’s a boundary.
It’s a declaration.
It’s a refusal to keep editing myself down to a version that’s easier for someone else to hold.
—
The Shape It Took
By the time the song settled into itself, it wasn’t soft anymore.
It had grit. A little swagger. A little chaos.
It became a kind of anthem for that version of me that doesn’t ask permission anymore.
The one who knows exactly who she is — even when that’s inconvenient.
Especially then.
—
Why It Matters
I think we all have a version of ourselves we’ve been told is “too much.”
Too loud. Too emotional. Too driven. Too complicated. Too honest.
And we learn, over time, how to file those edges down.
But here’s the thing I’ve learned through writing this song:
The parts of you they call “too much” are usually the parts that are most you.
And maybe the goal isn’t to fix that.
Maybe the goal is to finally stand in it.
Fully.
Unapologetically.
And if that’s too much for someone?
They’re free to go find less.
—
That’s where this song came from.
Not from perfection.
From truth.
And honestly? That’s the only place worth writing from anymore.
—
The Line That Lit It (Full Circle)
And it still takes me back to that line I didn’t write, but absolutely claimed in spirit — the one from Elyse Meyers that put words to what I’d been circling for years.
Because sometimes the most powerful thing isn’t inventing the truth.
It’s recognizing it when you hear it.
And having the guts to build something honest in response.
—
Lyrics Excerpt
Verse I bent myself to fit the frame Cut my edges, dulled my flame Smiled nice and played it safe Just to keep the peace in place
Pre-Chorus But something in me finally broke Somewhere between the hush and choke
Chorus If I’m too much, go find less I’m done drowning in second-guess I won’t shrink to ease your mind Take it or leave it, this is mine Strike the match, watch it burn I ain’t got a damn thing left to learn If I’m fire you can’t confess If I’m too much, go find less
Bridge A little wild, a little free A little more of who I’m meant to be No more trimming down the truth No more asking for your proof
—
That’s the song that came out of it.
Not borrowed. Not copied. But sparked — by a line that told the truth so clearly, I couldn’t ignore it.
When people talk about burnout, they usually picture someone falling apart.
Crying. Snapping. Completely overwhelmed and unable to keep going.
And sometimes it does look like that.
But sometimes it doesn’t.
Sometimes burnout is quiet.
It looks like getting up every day and doing exactly what needs to be done, but feeling nothing while you do it. It looks like checking the boxes, answering the calls, making the meals, showing up for everyone… and still feeling like you are not really there.
Not sad enough to fall apart. Not okay enough to feel at peace.
Just somewhere in the middle.
Stuck.
I think that version of burnout is harder to recognize, because from the outside, everything looks fine.
You are still functioning. The house is still running. The kids are still cared for. Life is still moving forward.
But inside, something feels off.
You are tired in a way that sleep does not fix. You are overwhelmed in a way that is hard to explain. You are needed constantly, and somehow still feel invisible.
And then comes the guilt.
Because how do you admit you are burned out when you are still doing everything you are supposed to do?
How do you say you are struggling when nothing is technically falling apart?
So you don’t.
You push it down. You tell yourself other people have it harder. You remind yourself to be grateful.
And you keep going.
That is what a lot of mom burnout actually looks like.
It is not always a breaking point.
Sometimes it is a slow fading.
A quiet losing of yourself in the middle of taking care of everyone else.
A life that starts to feel more like responsibility than something you are living.
And the hardest part is, you can stay there for a long time.
Because nothing forces you to stop.
There is no clear moment where everything crashes and demands your attention.
There is just that quiet voice in the back of your mind that says, something is not right.
If you are in that place, I want you to hear this.
You do not have to fall apart for your burnout to be real.
You do not have to earn rest by reaching a breaking point.
You are allowed to acknowledge that you are tired. You are allowed to admit that something feels off. You are allowed to need more than just getting through the day.
Not every season is meant to feel full and meaningful and balanced.
Some seasons are heavy.
But you are still in there somewhere.
Even if you feel a little disconnected. Even if you are just going through the motions right now.
This is not the end of you.
It is a signal.
A quiet one, maybe. But an important one.
And maybe the next step is not fixing everything all at once.
Maybe it is just noticing.
Maybe it is just being honest with yourself.
Maybe it is just giving yourself permission to say, this is harder than I thought it would be.
Is it just me, or does the first sign of Spring make everything feel a little lighter? After a long winter of heavy stews and “survival mode” meals, I finally feel the itch to throw open the windows, let the air in, and get creative in the kitchen again. For me, Spring isn’t just about cleaning out the closets; it’s about refreshing the menu with foods that actually feel like sunshine. Lately, I’ve been digging through my old binders—the ones filled with handwritten index cards, splattered printouts, and those “secret” family variations that you just can’t find in a cookbook. I wanted to share a few of those gems with you today. The star of the show right now? The Pasta Salad. There is something so nostalgic about a big bowl of rotini chilling in the fridge. It’s the ultimate “fun” food—perfect for a backyard lunch, a quick side for a BBQ, or just a reliable snack when the day gets hectic. I’ve included three different ways to make it, so you can choose your own adventure (the Taco style is a game-changer!). From my “Lemon Delight” (which is basically Spring in a 9 \times 13 pan) to homemade tortillas that will make you never want to buy the store-brand again, these are the recipes that bring life back to my table. So, grab your apron, put on your favorite playlist, and let’s make something delicious. Because life is too short for boring food, and “done” is always better than “perfect”—especially when it tastes this good.
🍋 Lemon Delight A vintage family favorite dessert. Ingredients * 1 ½ cups flour * ¾ cup chopped nuts * 1 ½ sticks oleo (margarine) or butter * 1 (8 oz) package cream cheese, softened * 1 cup powdered sugar * 1 ½ cups Cool Whip * 2 small packages Instant Lemon Pudding (not shown in photo, but standard for this recipe) Instructions * Prepare the Crust: Mix flour, chopped nuts, and oleo well. Shape into a ball and press into a 9 \times 13 pan. * Bake: Bake at 350°F for 15 minutes. Cool thoroughly. * Cream Layer: Mix the softened cream cheese and powdered sugar well. Fold in the Cool Whip. Spread this mixture on top of the cooled crust. * Pudding Layer: Prepare the lemon pudding according to package directions. Beat until thick and spread over the cream layer. Top with extra Cool Whip if desired.
🥗 Pasta Salad & Variations One base recipe with three delicious ways to customize it. Base Ingredients * 1 pkg pasta (Rotini, Shells, or Elbows) * ½ cup mayonnaise * ½ cup Miracle Whip (or salad dressing) * 1 tablespoon milk Instructions * Cook Pasta: Prepare pasta until it is al dente—firm, not mushy. Drain and cool pasta before combining with other ingredients. * Make Dressing: While pasta is cooking, whisk together the seasoning packet, mayo, Miracle Whip, and milk. * Combine: Fold in your chosen variations (see below) and the cooled pasta. Variations * Ranch Style: Add 1 pkg Ranch seasoning, peas, carrots (mixed veggies), cheese, and bacon bits. * Italian Style: Add 1 pkg Italian seasoning, peas, carrots, ham or pepperoni, mozzarella or cheddar cheese, parmesan, and diced tomatoes. (Try with Garden Rotini!) * Taco Style: Add 1 pkg Taco seasoning, corn, peas, carrots, black beans, grape tomatoes, taco meat, and Queso Fresco.
🥨 Homemade Soft Pretzels Easy to make—best served with cheese sauce! Ingredients * ¾ cup water * 1 tbsp sugar * 1 tsp yeast * 2 cups flour * ½ tsp salt * 1 tbsp butter Instructions * Proof: Mix water, sugar, and yeast. Let sit for 10 minutes. * Dough: Add flour, salt, and butter. Knead for 10 minutes. * Rise: Cover and let rise for 1 hour. * Shape & Boil: Shape into pretzels. Boil in baking soda water for 30 seconds each. * Bake: Place on a baking sheet, use an egg wash, and sprinkle with salt. Bake at 450°F for 10–12 minutes.
🌮 Homemade Tortillas By Alyssa Rivers Ingredients * 2 cups All Purpose flour * 1 teaspoon salt * ½ teaspoon baking powder * 5 Tablespoons vegetable oil or melted butter * ⅔ cup warm water Instructions * Whisk together flour, salt, and baking powder. * Add oil and use a fork to combine until crumbly. Add water 1 teaspoon at a time until dough comes together. * Knead on a floured surface for a few minutes until smooth. Cover and let rest for 30 minutes to 2 hours. * Divide into 10 portions. Roll out as thin as possible (about 8 inches). * Cook in a heavy skillet over medium-high heat for 30–45 seconds per side until browned spots appear.
🥩 Korean Beef Bowl A 15-minute dinner that tastes like BBQ. Ingredients * 1 lb ground beef * 3 cloves garlic, minced * ¼ cup brown sugar, packed * ¼ cup reduced sodium soy sauce * 2 tsp sesame oil * ½ tsp crushed red pepper flakes * ¼ tsp ground ginger * 1 tbsp vegetable oil * 2 green onions, thinly sliced * ¼ tsp sesame seeds Instructions * Whisk together brown sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil, red pepper, and ginger. * Brown the beef with garlic in vegetable oil over medium-high heat. Drain excess fat. * Stir in the sauce mixture and green onions. Simmer for 2 minutes. * Serve over rice, garnished with more green onions and sesame seeds.
🍞 The Best Zucchini Bread By Holly Nilsson Ingredients * 2 cups flour * 1 ½ cups sugar * 2 tsp baking soda * 1 tbsp cinnamon * 1 tsp salt * 3 large eggs * 2 cups grated zucchini (do not squeeze dry!) * ¾ cup vegetable oil * 1 tbsp vanilla * 1 ½ cups chopped walnuts Instructions * Preheat oven to 350°F. Prep two 8 \times 4 loaf pans. * Whisk dry ingredients together. * In a separate bowl, beat eggs, then add zucchini, oil, and vanilla. * Combine wet and dry ingredients. Fold in walnuts. * Bake for 50–60 minutes. Cool in pans for 5 minutes before moving to a wire rack.
🫐 Blueberry Muffins By Sally’s Baking Addiction Ingredients * 1 ¾ cups flour * 1 tsp baking soda & 1 tsp baking powder * ½ tsp salt * ½ cup unsalted butter, softened * ½ cup granulated sugar & ¼ cup brown sugar * 2 large eggs * ½ cup sour cream (or plain yogurt) * 2 tsp vanilla * ¼ cup milk * 1 ½ cups blueberries (Pro Tip: Dust blueberries with flour before stirring into batter!) Instructions * Preheat oven to 425°F. Prep a 12-count muffin pan. * Cream butter and sugars. Add eggs, sour cream, vanilla, and milk. * Whisk in dry ingredients, then fold in floured blueberries. * Bake at 425°F for 5 minutes, then reduce heat to 375°F for the remaining 13–15 minutes (this creates those tall “bakery style” tops!).
For most of my adult life, I was two things: a mom and a woman working toward becoming an English teacher. Every step I took felt intentional. Every late night, every class, every moment of juggling kids and coursework – it all had a purpose.
There was a finish line.
And I reached it.
I earned the degree. I stepped into the classroom. I became the version of myself I had been building toward for years.
And then, just like that… it was over.
Not because I failed. Not because I didn’t care. Not because of the kids.
But because life shifted in a way I didn’t expect.
After two years in the classroom, and after an injury that forced me to stop and really look at everything, I realized something I wasn’t prepared to admit:
Education, in the way it exists right now, wasn’t for me.
That realization didn’t come with relief at first.
It came with grief.
Because I wasn’t just walking away from a job – I was letting go of a version of myself I had spent years becoming.
And no one really talks about that part.
No one tells you how disorienting it is to outgrow a dream you worked so hard for. How quiet it feels when the path you were so sure about… just ends. How you’re left standing there asking, now what?
But it wasn’t just about my career.
I also had to let go of expectations I didn’t even realize I was holding onto.
Who I thought I’d be by now. Where I thought I’d be by now. Who I thought my kids would become.
That one is the hardest to say out loud.
Because as parents, we don’t always notice when our hopes quietly turn into expectations. We imagine futures for them – safe ones, successful ones, maybe even easier ones than what we had.
But our kids?
They are their own people.
And the truth is… mine are not who I once imagined they would be.
They are better in some ways. More complex in others. They have real struggles, real challenges, real lives that don’t fit neatly into the picture I once held in my mind.
And you know what?
That doesn’t mean anything went wrong.
It means they’re human.
It means they’re becoming.
And somehow, even now – maybe especially now – they still call me when they need a little help. A little guidance. A little piece of home.
So maybe I didn’t fail at motherhood either.
Maybe it just looks different than I expected.
And maybe that’s the theme of this season of my life:
Letting go of what I thought it would be… to make room for what it actually is.
I won’t pretend that process is easy.
There are still moments where I grieve the life I thought I’d have. The version of me I thought I’d be. The timeline I thought I was on.
But there’s also something else, quietly growing underneath all of that:
Space.
Space to ask new questions. Space to rediscover what I love. Space to figure out what’s next – not based on who I thought I had to be, but who I actually am.
Because here’s what I’m learning:
Letting go isn’t the end of your story.
It’s the part where you stop following a script… and start writing something real.
I may not be where I thought I would be.
But I am here.
I am okay.
My kids are okay.
And for the first time in a long time, I’m not chasing a version of life that no longer fits.
I’m standing in the middle of what is…
and slowly, honestly, figuring out what comes next.
Mothersense and Miscellaneous 