The first thing that crosses my mind most mornings is this: I’m not good enough. I’m not a good enough wife, mom, Christian, friend—or any of the other roles I juggle. People often call me “Superwoman,” a title meant to encourage, but for me, it feels like a pressure-filled pedestal. I feel like I have to live up to the expectation of handling everything with ease and grace. The truth, though? I don’t. I conceal my emotions and struggles. And I hate that because I don’t want to come off as someone who never struggles but I’m definitely not a person who will blast every struggle for everyone to see but if our paths and you ask me and I’m feeling vulnerable you’ll get the whole thing…sorry for the word vomit you may receive!

Daily, I wrestle with the weight of trying to balance it all. My to-do list feels endless, and while I’ve been advised to put some things down or ask for help, the very thought makes me hesitate. In fact, if I do put something down it will be filled with something else or will be shortly. If I do ask for help, I’m the type who will try too hard to fix a problem beforehand—pouring all my energy into making sure the task is practically done before anyone steps in. Why? Because deep down, I want to prove I can handle it on my own.

“There are not moms like you.” Something I’ve been told that again was supposed to be taken as a compliment but as I soaked it in I started to feel isolated with any problem especially as a mom that I would come across because if there aren’t moms like me then they must also not have problems like me.

This mindset doesn’t just affect how I handle tasks—it spills over into how I handle relationships. I’m guarded. So extremely guarded. I keep people at a distance even my close friends, not because I don’t care, but because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of being a burden, of showing weakness, of being seen as less than capable. So, I build walls. I keep my struggles to myself, slap on a smile, and push forward. Because if you just keep going I’ll eventually figure it out at least that’s what I think.

The irony is that while I crave connection, I struggle to let others in. I want people to see me as strong, but in doing so, I rob myself of the support and love they’re so willing to offer. My guarded heart becomes a barrier—not just between me and others, but between me and God especially on moments when I feel out of control and I’m so desperately trying to catch a grip.

This mindset has led me to a place of exhaustion, both mentally and spiritually. I resonate deeply with the song Lose Control by Jeremy Camp. The lyrics feel like they were written straight from my heart. Every single word. Every day, I want to let go and trust God fully—to surrender the chaos and rest in His peace. But instead, I hold on tighter when I’m losing my grip. When life feels out of control, my instinct is to spiral rather than lean into Him. But when I am grounded in Him everything else in my world feels grounded too.

I’ve learned that my constant need to fix things is a sign of my reluctance to truly trust Him. I try to change circumstances, troubleshoot problems, and bear the weight of my world when all along, He’s asking me to wait and let Him work. Oof! Even just writing that is hard to hear.

This isn’t an easy journey. Letting go and surrendering feels counterintuitive when you’re used to carrying so much. But I’m trying to remember to realize that leaning on Him isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s the ultimate strength. I don’t have to have it all together before I go to Him especially on the moments when I do spiral mindlessly.

For anyone else feeling this tension—the tug-of-war between holding it all together and giving it all to God—know this: You don’t have to be Superwoman. You don’t have to have it all together. It’s okay to admit you’re struggling and to let God step into the cracks.

Each day, I remind myself of this truth: His strength is made perfect in my weakness. And on the day when I finally lose control, I’ll find the peace I’ve been searching for all along.