The Guilt, the 1 AM Emails, and the Days I Almost Quit

I've never really written this part down before. The days I question everything, the guilt that follows me around, and what it actually looks like to build a life you once dreamed of while trying to be present for the one you're living.

I want to be honest with you for a minute.

It's been really hard lately.

Not in a way that I can necessarily explain to someone in a quick conversation. Not in a way that can be fixed with a day off, a coffee, or someone telling me I'm doing a good job. It's a kind of hard that comes from wanting so much out of life while simultaneously trying to appreciate the life you already have.

Some days, I'm not entirely sure what I'm doing. I question how well I'm doing it, whether I'm making the right decisions, and whether all of this is actually worth it.

I have so many dreams. So many ideas. So many different directions I want to take my life, my businesses, my creativity, and the person I'm becoming. Sometimes I feel like I'm being pulled in a hundred different directions, trying to build everything I've ever wanted while also trying to be present in the everyday moments happening right in front of me.

And sometimes, being present makes me sad.

Not because I don't love my life. I do. But because I know how much I want to do, and I know how much work it takes to get there. When you're constantly thinking about the next step, the next opportunity, the next version of yourself, it can be difficult to sit still and appreciate where you are.

I'm learning that being happy with where you are doesn't mean you stop wanting more. I'm learning that I can be grateful for my life and still want it to look different. I can love my children more than anything in this world and still feel overwhelmed by the responsibility of trying to build a future for them.

Both things can be true.

And lately, I've been trying to let them be.

The mom guilt that never really goes away

I work from home. My husband and I work together. My children are around me almost 24/7, and in a lot of ways, that's exactly what I wanted.

I wanted to build a life where I could be there for them. I wanted the flexibility to bring them along with me, to have them around while I worked, and to create something that didn't require me to miss out on their childhood.

But I don't think I fully understood how difficult it would be to have everything happening at once.

I'm emailing clients, planning campaigns, building strategies, creating content, editing videos, answering messages, managing projects, and trying to grow two businesses. Then, in the middle of it all, I'm also a mom who wants to put her phone down, get on the floor, play with her kids, and give them my entire attention.

I want to be fully present for them.

I don't want my children to remember me as someone who was always busy, always working, or always saying, "Just one second."

But I also know that the work I'm doing matters to me. I know that building these businesses is part of the future I want for our family. And I know that the life I'm working towards requires me to show up, even when I don't feel like I have anything left to give.

That doesn't make the guilt disappear.

There are days when I finish working and feel like I've given everything to everyone else. I've created for other people, edited for other people, answered emails for other people, and used my time to help someone else's vision come to life. By the time I get to the end of the day, I'm exhausted.

And then I look at my kids, and all I want is to have more energy for them.

More patience. More attention. More of me.

I hate that sometimes I have to remind myself to put my phone down. I hate that even when I'm sitting with my family, my mind can be somewhere else, thinking about something I haven't finished or something I need to do tomorrow.

I think a lot of working moms understand this feeling. You're physically there, but mentally, you're trying to hold together ten different things.

And sometimes you wonder if you're doing any of them well.

Remembering the girl who wanted more

When I feel particularly stuck, I try to remember who I was before all of this.

I remember being in school and knowing, deep down, that I wanted something different. I didn't enjoy the path I was on. I had so many dreams and ideas about what my life could look like, but I didn't always feel like those dreams fit into the life other people thought I should have.

There was a version of my future that felt safer. A more traditional route. A career in an established industry, in media or entertainment, where maybe I could have found my place if everything had worked out differently.

But I was young, and there were so many unknowns. Looking back at some of the things we've since learned about certain corners of the entertainment industry, including the allegations and revelations surrounding powerful people, I sometimes wonder what my life might have looked like if I'd pursued those opportunities.

I don't know what would have happened. I can't rewrite the past, and I won't pretend I know how things would have turned out.

What I do know is that I had dreams I wasn't ready to give up on.

I wanted a life that felt like mine.

I wanted the freedom to explore who I was, to create, to build something, and to wake up feeling like I was working towards something I genuinely cared about.

And when I was 21, with my son, I was still trying to figure out what that meant.

I was working as a social media manager in my small Canadian town. I remember working with a strip club, creating content and doing the work I knew how to do at the time, while privately asking myself, Is this really my life? Is this what I'm going to do forever? Am I actually happy?

I couldn't shake that feeling.

I knew I was capable of more, but I didn't know what more looked like yet. I had a child, responsibilities, bills, and a life that needed me to show up every day. I couldn't just disappear and figure everything out.

So I kept going.

I learned. I experimented. I made mistakes. I took opportunities that weren't necessarily where I wanted to end up, but they taught me something about where I wanted to go.

And now, when I look at the life I'm building, I try to remember that girl.

Because she would probably be pretty shocked to see where I am today.

Building something while raising a family

Between Zeal Social Management and Zealunity, there is so much happening behind the scenes that people don't see.

I'm not just posting content or coming up with ideas. I'm building campaigns, developing strategies, communicating with brands, coordinating people, managing projects, planning shoots, editing, problem solving, and trying to turn a vision into something real.

There are emails that need to be answered at 11 PM. There are edits that need to be finished at 1 AM. There are days when one small task turns into six more, and suddenly the entire day has disappeared.

Sometimes I feel like I do everything.

And I don't say that because I want sympathy. I say it because I think it's important to be honest about what building something from the ground up actually looks like.

There isn't always a team waiting to take over when you're tired. There isn't always someone else who can make the decision, handle the client, finish the edit, or keep everything moving.

A lot of the time, it's me trying to figure it out as I go.

And there have been so many moments when I've wanted to stop.

Truthfully, I've almost quit more times than I can count.

There are days when I struggle to get out of bed and start working. Days when I open my laptop, stare at the screen, and feel completely stuck. Days when the thought of creating one more thing makes me want to close everything and walk away.

Because sometimes the cycle feels endless.

Create. Create for other people. Help other people grow. Bring someone else's vision to life. Finish the project. Send the email. Start the next thing.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I realize I haven't done anything for myself.

I haven't created something just because I wanted to. I haven't had time to explore an idea without wondering whether it will turn into something profitable. I haven't given myself the same energy I give to the businesses and people I'm trying to help.

Sometimes I feel like I'm so busy building a life that I forget to actually live it.

That's the part I struggle with the most.

Because what is the point of having all these dreams if I'm too exhausted to enjoy the life I'm creating?

What is the point of working towards freedom if I never let myself feel free?

And how do you keep going when the thing you love starts to feel like the thing that's draining you?

I don't have perfect answers to those questions. I'm still figuring them out.

The part about not having a safety net

I think one of the hardest parts of this journey is knowing that there isn't really anyone to catch us if things fall apart.

I don't have a relationship with my mom or my dad, and I don't have a big support system to lean on.

It's really just my husband, my kids, and me.

There isn't someone I can call to ask for help around the house when everything becomes too much. There isn't someone who can step in and take the kids for a few hours so I can catch my breath, or someone who can cover a bill if we hit a difficult month.

There aren't many spontaneous date nights, days off, or nights when I can completely switch off without thinking about everything waiting for me tomorrow.

We figure it out ourselves.

And while I'm proud of the life we've built together, I would be lying if I said it wasn't lonely sometimes.

I think people often talk about independence as though it's always empowering. And in many ways, it is. But there is a difference between choosing to be independent and having to be independent because there isn't another option.

Sometimes I don't want to be strong. Sometimes I want someone else to take care of things for a minute. I want someone to tell me not to worry about the emails, that the house can wait, that the bills are covered, and that I can just be a person for a day.

I want a break without having to organize the break, plan around the break, or feel guilty about everything I didn't get done during it.

But that's not where we are right now.

So I keep working towards the place where maybe things can feel a little lighter. Where we have more flexibility, more financial breathing room, and more opportunities to enjoy the life we're working so hard to create.

I want that for my children.

I want them to grow up knowing that their parents tried. That we weren't afraid to build something different, to take chances, or to create opportunities that didn't exist for us before.

I want to show them that you can build a life that looks different from the one you were handed.

But I also want them to see me enjoying it.

And that's something I'm still learning how to do.

The little moments that remind me why I'm doing this****

Sometimes, when I'm overwhelmed, something small happens that brings me back to reality.

I'll be working on something for Zealunity or Zeal Social Management, and Sabo will come running into the studio, wanting to be filmed with the camera.

Or he'll grab his iPad and start running around taking videos of us, copying what he sees me doing.

And I stop for a second.

Because this is the life I wanted.

I wanted to work creatively. I wanted to build businesses. I wanted my children to be part of my world rather than having to keep my work and my family in completely separate boxes.

I wanted to be able to bring them into the studio, let them see what I'm creating, and have them grow up around the process of building something.

And there they are, right in the middle of it.

They're watching me figure things out. They're watching their dad work alongside me. They're seeing the shoots, the cameras, the ideas, the people, and all the little things that go into making something happen.

They don't understand the invoices or the emails or the stress of trying to make everything work.

They just see Mom working on something, and sometimes they want to join in.

I hope that one day they look back and understand what we're building.

I hope they know that all those late nights weren't because I didn't want to spend time with them. They were because I was trying to create a life where we could have more time together in the future.

And I hope I remember that the future isn't the only place where our life is happening.

It's happening right now, too.

In the studio. In the messy house. In the little interruptions. In the moments when Sabo wants to be part of a video. In the ordinary days that I sometimes rush through because I'm thinking about what's next.

Those moments matter just as much as the milestones.

Maybe even more.

What actually helps when I feel like I'm going nowhere

One of the biggest things I've learned about myself is that I need to write things down.

I journal when I'm overwhelmed. I write about how I'm feeling, what I'm worried about, what I want, and what I wish I could change.

I don't always have a solution when I write. Sometimes I just need to get everything out of my head and onto a page so it stops feeling like one giant, tangled mess.

But the real reason I keep doing it is because of what happens later.

When I'm having a difficult day and feel like nothing has changed, I can go back and read what I wrote months ago.

I can see the things I was worried about then. The goals I was trying to reach. The decisions I was scared to make. The things that felt impossible at the time.

And suddenly, I can see the progress I couldn't see while I was living through it.

I can see the little achievements that didn't feel significant when they happened. The opportunities I took. The clients I worked with. The things I learned. The moments when I did something that the older version of me would have been terrified to do.

I think we underestimate how easy it is to forget our own progress.

We're so focused on the next goal that we rarely stop to recognize what we've already accomplished. We move the finish line as soon as we reach it, and then wonder why we never feel like we're getting anywhere.

Journaling helps me see the bigger picture.

It reminds me that progress doesn't always feel exciting. Sometimes it feels like answering another email, making another decision, showing up when you're tired, or doing something small that nobody else will ever notice.

And sometimes, progress looks like realizing that the thing you wanted a year ago isn't actually what you want anymore.

That's okay, too.

I'm also trying to remind myself that I don't have to figure out my entire future today. I don't need to know exactly where every idea will take me or how everything is going to work out.

I can take things one step at a time.

I can change my mind.

I can want more without convincing myself that what I have right now isn't enough.

And I can have a difficult day without deciding that my entire life is going wrong.

That last one is still a work in progress.

If you're a mom who feels like she's failing at everything

I want to say something to any mom reading this who feels the same way.

You can love your children with everything you have and still miss parts of your old life.

You can be grateful that you get to stay home with them and still feel overwhelmed by never having a moment to yourself.

You can love your work and still resent how much energy it takes from you.

You can want to build a business, pursue a dream, create something meaningful, or become someone new, and still feel guilty for wanting more than the life you're currently living.

None of those feelings cancel out the love you have for your children.

I think there's so much pressure on mothers to be endlessly grateful. And of course, there are so many things to be grateful for. But gratitude doesn't mean we have to pretend that everything is easy.

Motherhood can be beautiful and exhausting at the exact same time.

Building something for yourself while raising children can feel incredibly rewarding and incredibly lonely.

And sometimes, you can spend an entire day doing your absolute best and still go to bed wondering if you did enough.

I do that more often than I'd like to admit.

But I'm trying to remember that my children don't need me to have everything figured out. They don't need a mother who has perfectly balanced every part of her life.

They need me to keep learning, keep showing up, and keep trying to create a life that feels good for our family.

And they need me to be there with them, not just physically, but emotionally, too.

That's why I want to find a better balance. Not because I want to do less with my life, but because I want to be able to enjoy more of it.

I don't want to wake up one day and realize that I spent all of their childhood waiting for things to get easier.

I want to build my dreams while they're growing up, not put my entire life on hold until they're older. But I also want to make sure I'm not missing the very moments I wanted the freedom to experience.

I don't know exactly what that balance will look like.

I'm learning as I go, just like everyone else.

So, is it all worth it?

I ask myself this question a lot.

At the end of the day, all we really have is our time.

We can make more money. We can start new businesses, find new opportunities, change directions, and build something completely different from what we have today.

But we can't get our time back.

And if I'm spending all of mine doing something that leaves me unhappy, exhausted, and disconnected from the people I love, then I have to be honest with myself about whether it's worth it.

That's a difficult question to ask when you're in the middle of building something.

Because there are days when I feel on top of the world. Days when I'm excited about the future, proud of what we're creating, and so full of ideas that I can barely keep up with myself.

And then there are days when I question everything.

I question whether I'm capable of doing what I want to do. Whether I'm moving quickly enough. Whether I should be focusing on something else. Whether the sacrifices we're making will eventually lead us somewhere better.

I think both versions of me are real.

The one who believes in everything we're building and the one who sometimes wants to give up.

The one who feels incredibly lucky to work from home with her children and the one who sometimes wishes she could close the door, leave her phone behind, and have an entire day to herself.

The one who is proud of how far she's come and the one who still feels like she's so far away from where she wants to be.

I'm learning not to let one difficult day erase everything I know to be true.

I know how much I wanted this life when I was 21.

I know how badly I wanted to create something of my own. I know how it felt to question whether I was happy, to feel like there had to be something more, and to wonder if I would ever figure out how to build a life that felt right for me.

And I know that I'm no longer that girl wondering if she can do it.

I'm doing it.

Maybe not perfectly. Maybe not as quickly as I'd like. Maybe with a lot more late nights, uncertainty, and exhaustion than I ever imagined.

But I'm doing it.

And when I look at my children, I know why I keep trying.

I want to give them opportunities. I want to give our family freedom. I want to create a future where we're not constantly worrying about the next bill, the next client, or whether we can afford to take a day off.

I want to build something that gives us options.

I want my children to see what it looks like to work towards something you believe in, even when it's difficult. But I also want them to see that it's okay to rest, to change your mind, and to choose happiness over constantly chasing the next thing.

I'm still figuring out how to teach them that while learning it myself.

For now, I'm trying to keep going without losing sight of why I started.

I'm trying to notice the little things. To celebrate the small wins. To put my phone down when I can. To stop treating every day like a race to get somewhere else.

And when I have a day where I feel like I'm failing at everything, I'm trying to give myself the same grace I'd give someone else.

Because I know that this season won't last forever.

My kids will get older. Our businesses will change. The things that feel impossible today might become ordinary in a few years.

I don't know exactly how everything will turn out, but I believe in what we're building.

And I believe that I can keep building it while learning to enjoy the life I already have.

Maybe that's what this season is teaching me.

That I don't have to choose between being ambitious and being present. That I don't have to give up on my dreams to be a good mom, and I don't have to sacrifice every part of myself to build a successful business.

I just have to keep figuring out what that looks like for me.

One day at a time.

And if you're reading this while sitting in the middle of your own messy, exhausting, uncertain season, I hope you know that you're not the only one.

Some days, I have it together. Some days, I absolutely don't.

Some nights, I'm editing at 1 AM, wondering how I'm going to wake up the next morning and do it all again.

And some mornings, I look at my kids and feel so grateful that I get to build this life alongside them.

Both are true.

I'm tired. I'm still learning. I'm still dreaming. And I'm still here.

For now, that's enough.

And tomorrow, we'll try again.

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