The Magic of Duality: Balancing Hope and Overwhelm in Motherhood

Here’s something I’ve learned the hard way: life isn’t either-or. It’s both-and. Duality is the real power player in life.

You can be so in love with your family and also feel completely touched out.
You can feel hopeful about the future and also want to hide under the covers and cry.
You can be incredibly grateful and feel like you’re barely keeping it together.

It took me a long time to accept that both things can be true at the same time, and that doesn’t mean I’m doing it wrong. It just means I’m human. And if you’re a mom, especially one trying to create a meaningful life in the middle of everything, you probably know exactly what I mean.

Life Isn’t All One Thing

Some mornings I wake up with energy and a plan. The house is still quiet, I get a few moments to myself, and I feel like… OK, maybe I can do this. Maybe I’m figuring it out.

Then there are the mornings where someone is already crying before breakfast (sometimes it’s me), we’re out of clean clothes, I looked at an email that makes my heart race and my brain is already spinning before I even have a chance to brush my teeth. Those days feel heavy, and I question everything- my work, my parenting, my goals.

But that’s the thing. It’s not all one thing. Life is both smooth and rough. There are days that feel like magic and days that feel like a mess, and most often, they’re tangled together.

We Don’t Have to Choose

Somewhere along the way, we got this idea that we have to pick a lane- either we’re doing great or we’re falling apart. But what if you’re just… doing both?

You can be working on yourself and still have days that knock the wind out of you.
You can be a great mom and still dream about running away to a cabin for a weekend alone.
You can love your life and still want parts of it to change.

I used to think if I wasn’t consistently “on,” I was failing. But the truth is, learning to hold space for both- the joy and the struggle- is where the real growth happens.

This Is the Work, and the Magic

It’s not about pretending things are fine when they’re not.
It’s about being honest.
Letting yourself feel it all- without shame.
Letting the good in- without waiting for the other shoe to drop.

There’s magic in being able to sit in the tension of two things being true.
That’s where the softness lives.
That’s where the strength is built.

That’s where we learn to breathe through the overwhelm, instead of judging ourselves for feeling it.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about that line- ‘I can do it with a broken heart.‘ It’s the anthem of duality. Holding it together and falling apart, all at once. Smiling while grieving. Showing up even when you’re shattered.

It’s the place where we can take a deep breath, be okay with the unknown, and still be brave enough to create a vision of the life we truly desire- even when we can’t yet see the next step.

I used to call it the messy middle. The in-between.
I used to think it was a holding pattern- a frustrating, foggy place where we’re just stuck.

But now I know- it’s actually a space of creation.

It’s where transformation begins, if you’re bold enough to accept what is while still believing that you’re worthy of more.

To the Mom Who’s Tired and Trying

You’re allowed to want a big, beautiful life and still feel completely unsure of how to build it.
You’re allowed to show up with joy and carry sadness in your back pocket.
You’re allowed to need help, space, quiet, or support- even if you’re usually the strong one.

This season is not a test.
It’s not a problem to solve.
It’s a path to walk- with grace for your own pace.

Keep going. You’re doing better than you think. And if you’re feeling “both” right now? You’re not alone. That’s the real stuff.

When you’re navigating the messy middle- feeling both hopeful and unsure- sometimes a small reminder can shift everything. That’s why I created these Affirmation Cards for Moms – to help you hold onto truth when your brain wants to spiral. Keep them on your mirror, tuck one in your journal, or pull one on those “I can’t even” mornings.