Holding the AND

I’ve been holding a truth in my chest that doesn’t always fit the mold people expect of me.

I love my family. Deeply. Fiercely. They are important to me—woven into my identity, my memories, my story. And I also love what I am building. I love what I am becoming. I love this season where I am finally giving myself permission to explore my passions, dive into creativity, and dream again.

This isn’t a “but” or a “yet.”
This is an AND.

And sometimes… family feels hard.

Not because I don’t care—but because it costs so much energy to stay in systems where my needs are invisible, my structure is misunderstood, and expectations press in like heavy fog. When I’m with family, I often feel drained. There’s always an undercurrent of demand, even if it’s unspoken. It feels conditional. As though I must show up only in ways that serve them, not honor me.

And when it comes to the grandlittles—oh, how I love them. But I’m not naturally a high-energy, hands-on little kid person. I’m a structured creative. I thrive in calm, ordered spaces. I get overstimulated easily, and when that happens, all of my focus goes to regulating my nervous system. It’s not rebellion or rejection—it’s reality. And I’m tired of apologizing for it.

When my kids were little, I managed it with intentional routines. I created structured creative times—not just for them, but for me too. That’s how I coped. That’s how I found calm. That’s how I kept from losing pieces of myself while showing up for everyone else.

I’m still that person. The one who needs stillness. The one who doesn’t do well in loud, chaotic spaces. The one who deeply cares but doesn’t thrive in overstimulation.

There’s nothing wrong with that.

I’ve realized: people don’t always want me—they want access to me. On their terms. When it suits them. But I can’t live like that anymore.

So I am learning to hold the AND:

• I can love my family and need distance.

• I can adore my grandchildren and limit time to what’s healthy for me.

• I can be present and protect my peace.

• I can say yes to my dreams without it being a no to anyone else.

This is the sacred middle I’m learning to live in.

If you’ve ever felt torn, please know: you are not broken. You are beautifully layered. And you get to live a life that honors both love and limits.

You get to hold the AND.