Today I locked myself in the office washroom and cried.
Not because something terrible happened.
I cried because I left my baby at home and don’t know why but today felt heavier than usual.
For the last 4 months, I was at home. But now i have to come to office regularly. Every morning I get ready, leave my baby behind and carry a weight in my chest that nobody can see.
People say, "It takes a village to raise a child." The thing is, I don't have that village.
I live in a foreign country. There are no grandparents a phone call away who can come over. No relatives dropping by. No familiar support system. Just me and my husband, two exhausted people trying our best every single day.
Sometimes when I share with someone how hard it feels, the response is, "Then why don't you just go back."
As if it is that simple.
As if people build lives abroad only for money.
As if careers, opportunities, commitments, relationships, dreams, and years of hard work don't matter.
As if leaving one life behind and rebuilding another is an easy decision.
The truth is, I don't even want to explain myself anymore.
I am tired.
Tired of feeling guilty when I leave for work.
Tired of feeling guilty when I think about my career.
Tired of questioning every decision.
Tired of pretending that I am handling everything well.
Motherhood has been the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced.
But nobody talks enough about how lonely it can feel when you're far from home.
Nobody talks enough about the mental load.
The physical exhaustion.
The hormones.
The stress that follows you everywhere.
The way it affects your body, your mind, your confidence, even your breastfeeding journey.
Some days I feel like I am failing at work.
Other days I feel like I am failing as a mother.
And on the hardest days, I feel like I am failing at both.
Meanwhile, my husband and I look at each other and see two people who are trying so hard to hold everything together that we barely recognize ourselves anymore.
We are not thriving.
We are surviving.
And maybe that's okay for now.
Today, in that office washroom, I let myself cry for all of it.
For the guilt.
For the loneliness.
For the pressure.
For the version of me that misses having a village.
And for the mother I am trying so hard to be every single day.
I don't have a solution.
I don't have a perfect ending.
I just know that if you're a parent carrying invisible weight, feeling torn between your child and your responsibilities, wondering if anyone else understands...
I do.
I really do.
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