Before you read any of these letters, I want to tell you one thing.

This is about motherhood —
but not the kind we usually talk about.

Not the highlight reel.
Not the advice.
Not the versions where we’re either “doing great” or “completely falling apart.”

This is about the quiet middle.
The part where you’re still functioning.
Still showing up.
Still loving your kids fiercely.

But everything feels heavier than it should —
and you don’t know why.

These letters weren’t written because I had answers.
They were written because I couldn’t keep pretending I was fine.

Most of them were written late —
when the house was finally quiet
and my brain was still loud.

I was a mother doing all the normal things —
and privately wondering why normal days felt so hard,
why my reactions felt bigger than the moment,
why I kept telling myself to “get it together”
instead of asking what I was carrying.

So I started writing it down.

Not to fix it.
Not to explain it.
Just to tell the truth about what it felt like
from the inside.

What you’re about to read isn’t a transformation story.
It doesn’t build toward a breakthrough.
It’s a season.

A season where I stopped arguing with how hard things felt
and started paying attention.

Some of these letters may feel uncomfortably familiar.
Some may put words to things you’ve never said out loud.

If one sentence makes you exhale —
that’s enough.

Here are the letters…