Things I Never Thought I’d Share—But I Am Anyway

I never thought I’d be the woman sharing her story online.

The one opening up about burnout, motherhood struggles, chronic illness, or late-night prayers whispered through tears.

But here I am. Hoodie on, heart wide open.

And truthfully? I’m sharing not because it’s easy—but because I know someone out there needs to hear it.

Maybe that someone is you.

So here are a few things I never thought I’d share… but I’m learning that healing begins when we stop hiding.

1. I’ve Been Burnt Out More Times Than I Can Count

Not tired. Not “a little overwhelmed.”
I’m talking burnt out—mentally fried before the day even begins.

The kind of exhaustion where even brushing my hair or replying to a simple text felt like too much.

I remember isolating. Ignoring phone calls. Ghosting group chats.

I used to write it off as “not being a big texter,” but that wasn’t the truth.

The truth was—I was struggling.

Pretending everything was fine.

Faking smiles while quietly falling apart.

And while I’ve experienced many waves of burnout before, the one that hit me most recently was different. Deeper. Darker.

I felt myself fall into a hole I couldn’t climb out of alone.

Being a full-time single mom to a neuro-spicy kiddo is rewarding, but it’s also incredibly demanding. I spent 11 years putting everyone and everything before me—because that’s what I thought being a “good mom” required.

What I failed to do was pour into me.
I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

That burnout became a turning point. It forced me to reach out for help, to face myself with grace, and to finally start the healing work.

I used to think talking about burnout made me weak.
Now I know: admitting it saved me.

(There’s a lot more to that story—but I’ll save it for another day. Baby steps, right? 😅)

2. Motherhood Didn’t Always Feel Magical—And That’s Okay

I love my child with every fiber of my being. There is nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for him. But if I’m being completely honest—motherhood hasn’t always felt magical. Not every moment has been joyful, smooth, or instagram-worthy.

Some days it felt heavy.
Some days it felt lonely.
Some days I wondered if I was even doing it right.

There were days I cried in the bathroom just so I wouldn’t yell.

Nights I fell asleep feeling like a failure.

Weeks where “survival mode” was the only mode I had.

Moments when I wondered how I was going to get through the rest of the day.

I’ve had days where my patience ran out before 9 a.m.
Days where I relied on screen time and snacks just to make it to bedtime.
Days where the guilt nearly crushed me.

And you know what? I’m still a good mom.
You are too.

And for a long time, I carried shame for those moments.
I thought I was the only one who felt like this.
I thought if I admitted it out loud, it would make me a bad mom.

But here’s what I’ve learned: motherhood doesn’t have to feel magical to be meaningful.

It’s not the “Pinterest-perfect” or the smiling family photos that define your worth as a mother.
It’s in the showing up—even when you’re exhausted.
It’s in the apologies and the hugs that follow.
It’s in the little everyday moments no one sees but God.

Being a mom doesn’t mean being perfect.
It means being present. Being human. Loving fiercely—even on your worst days.

If you're in a season where it feels like you're barely holding it together, please hear this:
You're still a good mom.
A real mom.
And you're doing better than you think.

3. I Struggled Quietly With My Health for Years

Before I was diagnosed with Hashimoto’s, I spent years feeling completely out of sync with my own body. I was confused. Frustrated. Tired—but not just in the "I need a nap" kind of way.

It was exhaustion that seeped into my bones. The kind where you wake up tired, go through the day in a fog, and crash early only to wake up just as drained.

I was gaining weight while eating clean.
I was always cold—even in the summer.
I’d sit in a sauna and barely sweat.
My hair was thinning in chunks.

My skin looked dull and dry.

My body was filled with unexplained bruising- big ones (that’s what she said!).

I couldn’t concentrate for long, and my memory was shot.

(My fellow Hashimoto, Hypo girlies will get it!)

At the time, I chalked it up to stress, aging, mom life—whatever made it easier to ignore.

But deep down, I started to wonder:
Am I just lazy? Is something wrong with me? Why can’t I “push through” like everyone else seems to?

The truth?
I wasn’t lazy.
I wasn’t broken.
I was undiagnosed.

I had Hashimoto’s thyroiditis—an autoimmune disease where your immune system attacks your thyroid, the tiny gland responsible for regulating hormones, metabolism, energy, body temperature, and more.

The tricky thing about Hashimoto’s is that it develops slowly.
Symptoms sneak in quietly and mimic other things—depression, anxiety, burnout, even just "normal mom fatigue."

But left untreated, it wreaks havoc.

And honestly? It did.

It affected every part of my life: and most likely contributed to the above points.

Eventually, I went to the doctor—not for my thyroid, but for something else.
That visit led to a referral, which led to a full blood panel.

Turns out my thyroid levels were alarmingly high.

Finally, once it was determined that my thyroid was not fluctuation, and actually getting worse… I started treatment.

And slowly—so slowly—I started to feel like myself again.

However, this is no quick or easy fix. I still struggle with this and will for the rest of my life. It’s all about managing it and honestly, it does suck.

4. I Used to Feel Guilty for Wanting More

More peace.
More purpose.
More me.

For the longest time, I believed that motherhood meant full-blown self-sacrifice. That the second I became a mom, everything else—my identity, my needs, my passions—had to take a back seat. Or worse, disappear altogether.

And so, I let it all go.
The creative ideas.
The quiet mornings.
The hobbies that once lit me up.
The dreams I dared to whisper to God late at night.

I convinced myself that needing space was selfish. That asking for help meant I was ungrateful. That wanting something more—something just for me—meant I was somehow doing this mom thing wrong.

But here's what I’ve learned, slowly and painfully, through therapy, prayer, burnout, and grace:

It’s not selfish to want more.
It’s sacred.

Because when I began to pour back into myself—when I gave myself permission to dream again, to breathe again, to be again—something shifted.
I started to feel whole, not just needed.

And you know what happened next?
My son saw a version of his mom that was lit up again.
Not just surviving, but creating.
Not just showing up for him, but finally showing up for me, too.

That matters.
That leaves an imprint.

I want my child to grow up knowing that women are more than caregivers and chaos-tamers.
That we are allowed to have visions, voices, and goals.
That it’s healthy to chase your purpose while raising your people.

Because every time we choose ourselves—even in small ways—we model something powerful.

So no, I don’t feel guilty anymore for wanting more.
I feel grateful that I finally started asking for it.

If you're in that place where you're yearning but scared, aching for more but weighed down by guilt—this is your permission slip:

You’re allowed to want more.
You’re allowed to have a life beyond the roles you fill.
And you’re allowed to come home to yourself again.

5. I Still Struggle With Sharing These Things

Even as I write this, I second-guess myself.
Will people judge me?
Will they think I’m oversharing?
Will they stop reading halfway through and think, “too much”?

But then I remind myself of this:
Your truth might be the lifeline someone else is praying for.

And if my voice—even trembling—can help one woman feel seen, supported, or simply less alone, then this post is worth it.

If you’ve ever felt like you had to keep it all together—I hope this reminds you that you don’t.

You can be strong and struggling.
Faith-filled and figuring it out.
Grateful and overwhelmed.

You’re human—and that’s holy too.

So here’s to saying the things we thought we had to keep hidden.
To healing out loud.
To showing up, even when it’s messy.

6. Most importantly

And listen—I by no means claim to have it all figured out.
I’m not sitting here writing this as a fully healed, perfectly balanced, Zen-like woman floating through motherhood with green juice in one hand and affirmations in the other. 😅

This?
It’s all still a work in progress. Every. single. day.

I still struggle with burnout.
I still battle the guilt.
I still catch myself people-pleasing, overdoing, or forgetting to eat lunch because… well, life.

But the difference now?
I notice it.
I name it.

And I gracefully redirect—most of the time, anyway.

So if you're stumbling forward with me, just know: you're not behind.
You're just human.

We’re healing. We’re growing. We’re rising—even when our hair is in a messy bun, while wearing our fav hoodie, and sippin’ on yesterday’s coffee. 💁‍♀️

With love (and trembling honesty),
Mel Braz