The Edge We’re All Living On

Motherhood, anxiety, and the space between knowing and doing

Lately, I’ve been thinking about the human experience — and more specifically, the human experience as it exists inside motherhood.

We all struggle with the same things.
Motivation.
Staying on track.
Moving forward.
Living with uncertainty.
The emotional rise and fall of daily life.

Motherhood doesn’t create these struggles — it just removes the illusion that we can avoid them.

Knowing Isn’t the Hard Part

What’s hard isn’t knowing what we need to do.

Most of us know exactly what would move our lives in a positive direction. Exercise. Less drinking. Meaningful work. Fresh air. Writing. Slowing down. Paying attention.

The answers are obvious.

What’s hard is doing them.

It’s like having the answer key but not knowing how to show your work. You still have to walk yourself through the steps. And the steps — the doing — are where the discomfort lives.

This is where anxiety enters the picture.

Anxiety Has a Job

We often treat anxiety like the enemy — something to be eliminated or silenced. But anxiety exists for a reason.

Biologically, it’s meant to push us into action. To run from the lion. To escape danger. To survive.

Without anxiety, we wouldn’t move at all. We’d stay in the comfort zone. The safe place. The familiar patterns.

Anxiety is the spark that says, something needs to change.

The problem is that modern life gives us endless perceived dangers. Invisible threats. Emotional weight. Mental noise. Our bodies react as if we’re running from predators — but there’s nowhere to run.

So we stay activated. Constantly.

We’re always on the edge.

Why Tools Matter

For a long time, I didn’t understand what therapy or “tools” could offer me.

Why seek help when the answers were already clear?
Stop drinking.
Move your body.
Focus on work that matters.
Be present.
Be healthier.

It felt unnecessary — almost silly — to ask for guidance when the path seemed so obvious.

But knowing the answer and living the answer are two very different things.

The work isn’t in the knowing.
The work is in the doing.

And the doing requires support — structures, rituals, tools — not because we’re broken, but because we’re human.

Motherhood and the Endless Beginning

When I say “get there,” I don’t mean a destination. There is no finish line. The journey doesn’t end until this life does.

That’s why we have to find joy in the process — or else it all feels pointless.

And this is where motherhood changes everything.

The tasks don’t end.
The laundry becomes laundry again.
The dishes reappear.
Meals need to be made every day.
The school routine resets every morning.
Cleaning is never finished — it just pauses.

If joy were found in completion, motherhood would be unbearable.

So where does joy live?

It lives in understanding that what we’re doing matters — even when it repeats.
It lives in recognizing that these small actions are part of a larger rhythm.
It lives in knowing that we are practicing something — patience, presence, resilience — even when it doesn’t feel graceful.

Every morning, you begin again.

You may have the same ritual. The same questions. The same to-do list. But you are not meeting the day with the same energy or capacity each time.

If you doubt that, ask yourself why some days feel light and effortless — and others feel like simply getting through the day takes everything you have.

The Edge — and How We Soften It

And this brings me to the edges we live on — and the ways we try to take the edge off.

Since having babies and breastfeeding, I’ve taken the edge off with food and sugar. When I was younger, working in the business world, I took the edge off with alcohol.

Neither of these came from nowhere.

I understand now why addiction exists. Why eating disorders exist. Why numbing behaviors exist.

We need relief.
We need something to soften the sharpness of life.

Sometimes it can feel like all of life is lived on the edge.

And motherhood intensifies that.

You’re needed constantly. You’re regulating emotions that aren’t your own. There are little people around all day, often waiting for you to reach your limit so they can push against it.

Tools, Not Answers

So when you’re trying to find yourself again — to remember who you are — you need tools.

Not answers.
Tools.

Tools to take the edge off without losing yourself.
Tools that redirect energy instead of suppressing it.
Tools that help you stay in your body, in your breath, in your life.

For me, those tools have become writing, journaling, movement, creating, and time outdoors.

Not because they fix everything — but because they give the edge somewhere to go.

A Gentle Ending

This isn’t about becoming calmer or better or more disciplined.

It’s about learning how to live honestly inside a nervous system that’s trying to protect you — even when it’s exhausted.

We’re all living on the edge of something.

The question isn’t how to escape it.

It’s how to meet it — gently, again and again — without losing ourselves in the process.

When the edge feels sharp

If you’re living close to the edge right now, you’re not alone. I created the Ease Journal as a gentle place to land — not to fix anything, but to help release what you’re carrying and reconnect with yourself in small, steady ways.

It’s a quiet companion for moments when the nervous system feels overwhelmed, and you need somewhere safe to put the weight down