Tag: depression

The Becoming : Pride in the midst of chaos

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

Both Things Can Be True

This past week felt like a culmination of so many moments for my niece.

She is my older sister’s only child, and she is truly a gem of a human—kind, smart, hardworking, and quick with a perfectly timed sassy comeback when the moment calls for it. It’s her senior year, and with that comes all the lasts of high school, not just for her, but for her mom too. Anyone who has parented a senior knows those endings hit in unexpected ways.

My niece is a 4-H and FFA gal, a band kid, and a Girl Scout. Through these programs she has learned responsibility, leadership, grit, creativity, and how to show up even when things are hard. I am so incredibly proud of her accomplishments. At her last county show, she earned Reserve Champion with pickled beets (yes—pickled beets!), and her market broilers made the sale. Those are not small wins. They are the result of years of early mornings, late nights, dirty boots, careful planning, and persistence.

Another “last” arrived quietly when I had the chance to talk with my sister about what comes next for her baby—her everything. And make no mistake, this kid has options. Several schools have already accepted her, and some came with scholarship packages. That is huge. That is exciting. That is the payoff for all those years of busyness and commitment.

It sent me straight back in time to my own years as a mom with kids who showed. The careful choosing of recipes. The guarding of certain ones like state secrets (banana butter, I’m looking at you). The pride of watching your kids take ownership of their work. Even my two older daughters—without any guidance from me—entered items and won prizes. There is something deeply satisfying about watching your children surprise you with who they are becoming.

All of that nostalgia, love, and pride has been swirling around me this week… while my own life looks a bit like a shit show.

Our water heater quit and is limping along on a temporary fix after days without hot water. I’m dealing with a kidney infection and a pharmacy run that couldn’t come soon enough. Our car is broken down and has a flat tire. My husband had a job lined up, attended orientation, only to be told days later that the position had already been filled. And just to round things out, I sliced my fingers open trying to pry a tin can (yes, I absolutely should know better), which earned me an ER visit, a tetanus shot, glued fingers, a wrapped thumb, and the loss of a good portion of my thumb pad. Goodbye thumbprint.

And yet—both things can be true.

I can feel immense love and pride for my niece and her accomplishments while my own world feels messy, loud, painful, and frustrating. I won’t fall into woe is me. This is my life. It is complicated and exhausting and sometimes downright ridiculous. There are days I want to strangle someone (figuratively… mostly). But then there are days when I glance in the rearview mirror and realize how far I’ve come.

I’ve survived every single thing I thought would break me.
That survival rate? 100%.

Am I the same person I once was? Absolutely not. But isn’t that the point? Life is about the becoming. About collecting skills, wisdom, scars, and stories. About learning how to stand back up. About making the world a little better where we can—just like my lovely niece is already doing.

And yes, you’d better believe I can still recite the 4-H pledge, parts of the FFA Creed, and the Girl Scout Promise.

Here’s to the becoming in 2026.
Love and light, y’all 🕯️

Christmas Togetherness: Embracing Love and Laughter

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

Christmas This Year

This Christmas season started off a bit heavy for me. I’ll be honest — I was sad for quite a bit, pretty much right up until our family’s Christmas Eve celebration.

That night, I sat at the end of the kitchen table and turned my head toward the living room as the littles opened their gifts. The sound that filled the house — the giggles, the pure laughter of children — there truly isn’t a better sound in the world. I teared up for a moment because that right there is exactly why I came.

I thought to myself, Mom and Daddy would be proud. They must be smiling down on us, because this—this togetherness, this joy—is all they ever wanted for us: to be together, to be present in each other’s lives, and to genuinely enjoy it.

Once the kids finished opening their gifts, it was the adults’ turn to shine as we mingled and prepared for our “Chinese Christmas” gift exchange. It was a blast — there were surprises, steals, laughter, and that wonderful mix of chaos and cheer that only family can create.

Then my sisters introduced a new game — one where you pass a gift left or right as a silly story is told, customized with everyone’s names. Each player put in a dollar, and a “Golden Ticket” prize would go to the winner, collecting the cash from everyone’s entry. It was silly and fun and full of laughter, just the way it should be.

My youngest got a few really thoughtful gifts this year, and at one point, he realized he only has two more years left of being “one of the kids.” That hit me — it made me pause and reflect. I have seven kids I call my own: five I gave birth to and two girls I’ve loved like my own for years. Four of them now have incredible partners — kind, caring, compassionate individuals who truly see who my children are and love them, flaws and all.

Even with a few behind-the-scenes hiccups (let’s just say there was a grocery order debacle, a brief moment of running out of gas, and yes, my husband losing his job), it was still a blessed Christmas.

Because at the end of the day, being surrounded by love, laughter, and the people who matter most — that’s what Christmas is all about.

Why Emotional Labor Deserves Recognition

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

The Cost of Being Unpaid

I often feel invisible. Not unseen in a dramatic way—but quietly, persistently taken for granted.

My empathy, my sympathy, my knowledge, and the countless things I offer other human beings move through the world without acknowledgment. I do not get paid to cook nourishing meals. I do not earn a wage for listening while someone vents, or for offering advice, or for helping untangle problems that aren’t mine. There is no paycheck for being available, for showing up emotionally, for holding space.

And yet, these things take time. They take energy. They take experience.

I have knowledge. I have lived enough life to understand nuance, to adapt, to learn quickly, to respond with compassion and clarity. I share all of it freely—especially with family. I give because I care, because connection matters to me, because helping feels natural. But because there is no monetary value attached to my time, no salary or hourly rate, it often feels as though my worth is somehow less.

Less than my sisters.
Less than anyone who earns money doing things.

I know—logically—that my skills have value. I know that emotional intelligence, adaptability, and lived experience are not insignificant. But where do they fit on a wage scale? What number do you assign to being the person others rely on? Why does value seem to exist only when it can be measured in dollars?

If I stopped doing all the things I normally do—if I were no longer available, no longer the listener, the helper, the cook, the steady presence—what then? Would the absence finally make the value visible? Or would it simply be filled by someone else, still unpaid, still unacknowledged?

Americans are relentlessly committed to monetizing every moment. A hobby can’t just be enjoyable—it has to become a side hustle. Creativity must be productive. Passion must be profitable. But a hobby stops being fun the moment it becomes a have to instead of a want to. When joy is turned into obligation, something essential is lost.

So I keep circling back to the same painful question:
If I am not valuable because I do not earn money… then what does that say about all the work that keeps people going but never appears on a balance sheet?

Maybe the problem isn’t my worth.
Maybe the problem is a system that only recognizes value when it can be billed, sold, or taxed.

And maybe being unpaid does not mean being unworthy—no matter how often the world makes it feel that way.

Therapeutic Cooking: Finding Peace in Recipes

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

Finding Peace in the Kitchen: Cooking My Way Through the Chaos

Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time in the kitchen — testing recipes, adjusting ingredients, and finding creative ways to use what I already have on hand. It’s not just about food; it’s about coping. It’s how I manage the discombobulation of my feelings, the uncertainty of the world, and the heaviness that sometimes tries to creep in. Cooking keeps my hands busy, my mind focused, and my heart grounded.

My kids are loving this little culinary journey — they’ve become my official taste testers. Not every recipe is a winner, but that’s part of the fun. My cinnamon rolls, for example, turned out tough and not fluffy at all. Instead of tossing them, I chopped them up, added a custard base, and turned them into a cinnamon roll French toast bake. It was a hit! Proof that even “failed” recipes can have delicious second lives.

I’ve been challenging myself to waste less and create more. Leftover taco meat, beans, Spanish rice, and corn turned into a comforting fall soup — some went straight into the freezer for another day. A close-dated can of fruit cocktail became the unexpected star of my “sweet heat salsa” when I mixed it with some red pepper flakes. I poured it over a pork roast, served it with mashed potatoes, and let me tell you — it was so good. Simple, cozy, belly-filling goodness.

Cooking every day — baking bread, making tortillas, mixing my own seasonings — has become more than a necessity. It’s a form of therapy. It helps me stay present and productive while I navigate this time of year, which has been difficult for me for a number of years. Recently, I restocked my pantry: flour, sugar, baking powder, cocoa, beans, potatoes, meats… all the staples that keep a kitchen humming. It gave me a strange sense of comfort and accomplishment — a reminder that even when life feels uncertain, there’s something deeply grounding about being able to nourish my family.

Sometimes, I think about my mom, Granny, Aunt Mertie, my former mother-in-law, and my Daddy. They all enjoyed my cooking, especially when my experiments turned out well. I think they’d be proud of me now — keeping their traditions alive while adding my own twist.

This — the mixing, the kneading, the simmering — this is how I cope. It’s how I manage the overwhelm, the grief, the unknown. It’s creative, it’s practical, and it fills both the stomach and the soul.

So if you’re feeling weighed down by the world or by your own thoughts, maybe try stirring something up in your kitchen. You might just find a bit of peace in the process, too.

Love and light, y’all.
And remember — you matter.

Embracing Imperfection: Finding Grace in Struggle

by Mothersense, posted in Uncategorized

I’m Letting You in on a Little Secret…

I’m going to let you guys in on a little secret: I do not have all of my ducks in a row!

Shocking, right? I know a little bit (or maybe a whole lot) about a great deal of things — cooking, baking, sautéing, homemaking, making money stretch — you name it. I’ve built real skills over the years, and I take pride in them. But even with all that knowledge, I still have those days. The ones that make me want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head. The days that drag on so long and hard that I catch myself wishing the time away.

Yes, I know how to make money work for me, but I’ll be honest — once the needs are covered, I still struggle. Do I treat myself to something nice? Save it for later? Spend it on my kids? The internal debate is real.

I live with PTSD and anxiety. I get “blue” days — not what I’d call depression, but heavy enough that I feel it in my bones. I’ve seen true depression up close — in my children, in my ex-husband, in others I love — and it has taught me a lot about compassion, patience, and grace.

Some days, I’m full of energy and optimism, ready to take on the world. And other days… I’m lucky if I can get supper cooked. And that’s okay. I’ve learned that even with all my knowledge — about money, about mental health, about coping — some days just aren’t it.

On those days, I have to remind myself: give yourself grace. Say, “Enough. Be still. Rest.” You don’t have to do it all — especially today.

But here’s the tricky part: rest can easily turn into avoidance if we’re not careful. It’s important to recognize what’s going on and act accordingly. Listen to your instincts. Listen to your body. Rest when you need to — but also, when it’s time, get up and move.

Take the shower. Bake the bread. Step outside and touch grass.

We’re all learning in this life — every second, every day. We just have to keep showing up.

And if you ever feel like you fell short or owe someone an apology — do it, mean it, and move on. Know better, do better. Every. Single. Day.

Love and light,
💛 Julie