Who really shows up?

The last few months have been driving me to the brink.

Here I am, trying to make sense of life—

Juggling my emotions, the demands of pregnancy, and managing an overwhelming schedule with all the kids.

I should be the one putting my feet up, resting, and recharging, but instead, I’m the one carrying the weight of everything.

I’m utterly exhausted, yet I can’t even nap without being interrupted by ridiculous questions like, “Can the kids have chips for a snack?”

And somehow, amidst all this, he’s the one everyone seems to rally around.

While he accuses me of cheating, keeps tabs on every move I make, and lashes out with anger, they’re offering him their help and support.

I’m falling apart inside, but he’s out drinking with my parents.

When I finally reach out for help, they dismiss me, chalking it up to “hormones” that will pass.

Seriously?

This is my seventh pregnancy. I know myself, and being "hormonal" is not me. I’m driven by logic, and there’s no logic in the way my own family has turned their backs on me.

Bailing on me to make dinner for my kids on the one day he has them. Taking the kids to the beach to “give him a break.” He gets one day a week to take care of them so I can rest—because I’m killing myself just to keep it together—and somehow, he’s the one they prioritize?

I’m the one who needs support, but my people have checked out.

So, this week, I’m showing up for myself. I’m going to be my own support system. Four days. Just me and the best cannabis I could find.