This last week my husband and I returned from vacation. I had intended to prewrite and schedule posts in the space of my absence but let it fall to the back burner. Not just because I was distracted by planning but also because I didn’t feel any major reflections stirring in me.

Upon our return home, settling back into routine I’ve found myself now overwhelmed with thoughts- about the expectations I have for myself, my family relationships, and the emotions and fear that seem to intensify as I enter my third trimester of pregnancy.

People often say becoming a parent brings old wound to the surface- either reinforcing them or unraveling them.

I can say that this is absolutely true.

I feel myself bleeding from wounds I thought were healed and gone. Wounds I have forgiven time and time again. Boundaries I once felt firm in now cracked, allowing danger too close for comfort.

An exhaustion that is all too familiar, caused by tensions that were never mine to carry or solve.

Lately, I feel at war within myself. Once again unsure how to navigate my relationship with either parent.

Just when I think I can predict their behaviors, I am left dumbfounded. Disappointed. Drained.

I feel caught between wanting to be a cooperative and compassionate child- and wanting to be ruthless in protecting myself. My husband. My child.

I’m realizing I don’t want to restore peace anymore.

I don’t want to maintain this awful false reality.

I don’t want to keep everyone else emotionally afloat while I quietly drown.

What hurts the most is realizing how often I have been used rather than loved.

I once thought it was a gift, being able to carry the weight of others’ emotional burdens. That I was special because people trusted me with their secrets. I believed that my ability to mediate conflict and absorb dysfunction was proof of wisdom and strength.

But now, I just feel manipulated.

Just this morning I called my father for the first time in several years, and a part of me hoped it would be the rebuilding of something. A small step toward reconnecting.

My hope was dashed instantly. It was a request for money. Not curiosity about my life. Not concern for my wellbeing.

My heart collapsed.

Once again, I was valued for what I could provide rather than who I am.

And yesterday, my mother publicly blasted another family member on social media- dragging my husband an I into the drama while framing it as protection. But it wasn’t protection. It was manipulation. An attempt to distort reality and force a wedge between me and someone else.

When I confronted her and asked her to remove the post, to leave my family out of her conflicts she threatened to cut me off for arguing with her before spiraling into self-pity and guilt-driven remarks.

I try to swallow my tears. I’m not looking for sympathy or attention.

I just don’t want to feel like a terrible person for protecting my husband, my child, and the life that we are building.

I don’t want to be embarrassed by my mother’s behavior.

I don’t want to keep watching unhealthy patterns be excused and enabled.

I don’t want to serve as the middleman for everyone else’s pain, trauma, and emotions.

And I really don’t want to feel guilty for setting boundaries I know are necessary.

But when your role in a family has always been peacemaker, protector, secret-keeper, emotional caretaker- choosing to take a step back feels cruel.

This season of motherhood is teaching me that, the cost of rescuing others is myself- my sanity, my peace, my light.

So, cheers to finding balance in self-sacrificing love.

To grieving the parents I needed, the relationships I hoped for, and the version of myself who believed it was her job to keep everyone else whole.

To building a home for my child that is safe, honest, and peaceful.