Hi, I'm Emilia Isabelle

Drowning in the Day-to-Day

Lately, I’ve felt like I’m drifting through my own life rather than living it. I get up, do the routine. The routine consumes me from the moment I open my eyes, the school runs, work, dinner, laundry, bedtime, and it all blurs into this endless loop of doing. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I’ve started to lose me.

There was a time I laughed easily, took time for myself, felt present. Now, I feel detached like I’m watching my life from the outside, like I’m performing a role instead of experiencing it. I love my child more than anything, and yet, in giving them everything, I’ve quietly stopped giving anything to myself. Partly, this is because I’m a single-parent but partly the reason is because I spent so long in survival in the early years that I have this overwhelming guilt that I need to give everything (and more) now.

It’s a strange kind of loneliness being surrounded by noise, demands, and love, but still feeling unseen and worse yet no-one to even see. The kind of quiet ache that no one else notices because from the outside, everything looks fine. The lunches are packed, the bills are paid, the smiles are in place. Underneath it all, I feel tired in a way that sleep can’t fix.

Some days I wonder if this is what being burnt out looks like when you keep going. I’ve experienced it before and it feels familiar. It’s not the dramatic kind that stops your world but the kind that just dulls everything. The kind that makes even joy feel muted. The kind that forces me to lay down in silence as soon as I put my son to bed.

I miss feeling alive. I miss being excited for things. I miss me the version of me that had dreams and energy and curiosity. Parenting can be all-consuming. You pour so much out that sometimes there’s nothing left to refill yourself with. Then why does admitting that feel like failure as though I should be grateful, happy, fulfilled.

Then I remind myself it’s okay to not feel okay. It’s okay to admit you’re finding it hard. It’s okay to feel lost in the noise of life. It’s okay to admit that being everything for everyone has left you running on empty.

This is my safe space to vent and share in hopes that there are others who feel this way, and maybe this is our reminder to pause. To breathe. To reach out. To remember that you’re not just a parent, or a worker, or a list of things to do. You’re a person and deserve attention, too.

So tonight, maybe I’ll sit with that part of myself that feels forgotten. I’ll listen to her. Maybe I’ll write, or cry, or just breathe for a minute without feeling guilty because healing starts small with honesty and the courage to say, I’m still here. I just need to find my way back to me.