Part 2: The Space Between Gratitude and Exhaustion

After sharing Part 1, I sat with my feelings a little longer. I realized that the heaviness I described isn’t just coming from life itself — it’s also coming from how I respond when things feel out of control.

This is the part where I get honest about my patterns, my self-sabotage, and what I’m learning about trusting myself again.

Master self-sabotager over here, amiga. I won’t lie and say I always catch myself when I’m getting in my own way. Some days I’m aware enough to call myself out, and other days I don’t realize it until I’m already deep in my head.

When I’m overwhelmed, negativity shows up fast. I pull back from people — especially my support system — not because they aren’t there for me, but because I don’t want to feel like a burden. In my mind, if I can’t find the solution on my own, how is someone else supposed to fix it for me? That mindset usually leads to procrastination, overthinking, and wanting to quit — not because I don’t care, but because everything starts to feel heavier than it needs to be.

These patterns didn’t come out of nowhere. They come from growing up in survival mode, from always being in overdrive. I used to believe I had to hit empty before I was allowed to rest or receive clarity… pa después empujarme y encontrar una solución. But I’m learning that I don’t need to reach burnout to deserve support, softness, or momentum. That way of living isn’t sustainable for me anymore.

Something I’m still working through is showing up for myself the way I show up for others. I know what it feels like to feel alone, so I instinctively make sure the people around me don’t feel that way — sometimes at the expense of my own emotional check-ins. It’s easier to hold space for others than to sit quietly with myself and face what I’m carrying.

One boundary I’ve started honoring is giving myself permission to pause. When I’m going through it, I don’t force myself to show up publicly. I give myself space — a day, a moment, a reset. Because I can’t keep running from myself… and also because stress is real and yes, my 3 canas are proof 😂.

I’ve also realized that a lot of what I carry isn’t just mine — it’s generational. I see familiar survival patterns in my parents and in the stories of my ancestors — the strength, the endurance, the constant push forward. And while I honor that, I’m also tired. There are moments where I want to tirar la toalla — but momma ain't raise no bii… a llorona yes, but a quitter no.

Control has always been my safety net — especially emotional control. For a long time, “handling it” meant ignoring my feelings and pushing through. Now I’m being asked to do the opposite: to slow down, to feel, to flow. And honestly, surrender doesn’t always feel spiritual — sometimes it feels uncomfortable and frustrating.

People love to say, “Let go and let God.” I believe it… but some days it comes with a big eye roll. Even my mom, now that I’m more open with her, reminds me “Dios aprieta pero no ahorca.” And every time I think and tell her, pero ahorita está apretando y ahorcando a la misma vez 😂. Humor has always helped me cope — not to minimize what I’m feeling, but to survive it.

Another big lesson in this season has been learning to let someone else help me — especially my partner. I’ve spent so much of my life in masculine energy, feeling like I need to have the answers, the solutions, the backup plans. I carry this quiet fear that relationships are temporary, and that if things don’t work out, I’ll still have to figure everything out on my own. So I default to doing everything alone.

But lately, life has been showing me something different. Even in the middle of financial stress — even when things feel unstable, when plans fall apart, when I’m not where I thought I’d be at 32 — the solution always appears. Somehow, by the grace of God and my spiritual team, the help shows up right when I need it. Not always how I imagined… but always enough.

I catch myself comparing my life to others sometimes, wondering how they make it look so easy. But I’m learning that everyone carries something. What someone has materially doesn’t reflect what they’re carrying emotionally — and vice versa. We’re all just navigating different versions of survival and growth.

This season has taught me that it’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay to not have everything figured out right now. I’m learning to be more gentle with myself and to recognize the blessings that exist even when I’m focused on what’s temporary.

My son is healthy. I am loved. I have a roof over my head and food on the table. And learning to truly see those things is helping me open up — to ask for help, to trust support, and to believe that I will be okay.

This is what growth looks like for me right now. Not pushing harder. Not proving anything. But learning how to stop fighting myself, soften into trust, and allow grace to meet me where I am — not where I think I should be. I don’t know exactly what’s next, but I do know this: I’m learning to trust myself again. I’m learning that I don’t have to abandon myself when things feel hard. I’m allowed to take this one day at a time. And right now, that feels like enough.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the ways survival shaped me — the habits, defenses, and coping mechanisms that once protected me.

What patterns did I learn in survival mode that might no longer be serving me?

Maybe that question is worth sitting with, instead of answering right away.