Confessions of a Burnt Out Birth Worker

Dear Diary,

I couldn’t sleep again last night. Tossed and turned disturbing Andy, so I take a sleeping tablet and zone out on Facebook until it kicks in. Wake up this morning in a fog. Both kids want breakfast at 6am and I can barely keep my eyes open. The worst thing is, I’m grumpy AF when I take the pills and I know it will last all day.

I get Mason off to kinder and my throat is already sore from yelling so much. Now Marlie wants to play with me but work is screaming at me so I put her in front of the TV with her dummy and a blanket of bad mum guilt.

I open my laptop and get instant overwhelm from all the tabs still open from last night.

All my ideas for how to get this business to work.

Wave after wave of anxiety hit me in the face and chest.

What the fuck have I done?

Why isn’t my business working?

I push it all down into my gut and I feel the familiar prickle of heartburn. I’m stressed. No. I’m ok. I’m fine.

But I’m not fine. I need a hug. I need a holiday. Except I just spent $2500 on birth education training and we’re broke. So broke it keeps me up at night.

If only I could crack the fucking code that could turn my business around. Take it from this weight on my shoulders to something I’m proud of. Something that inspires me to keep going rather than making me want to curl up into a ball and disappear.

I’m desperate for clients and desperate for money, which I know means neither are coming to me. I have to get my mindset to shift but how can I when I’m rock bottom.

I give my wrists a stretch. They burn from typing pretty much every waking hour. I sigh. Another day, another dollar I’m chasing with no idea what I’m doing.

M x