My Neighbor: Motherhood, My Life, and Me

It’s 11:31 p.m. and it’s my turn.
Today —and really, this whole week— I’ve felt a deep energy drop. A drop in every sense: mentally, emotionally, physically, creatively.
Oh, and I forgot to explain — when I say it’s my turn, I mean that right now, at 11:34 p.m., I’m alone. No tasks to do.
Well, plenty of tasks to do, but no energy left to do them.
I feel tired, and my eyes are heavy.
My mind questions that exhaustion because I was home all day with my baby, and I didn’t feel like I “did much”… at least, not much outside of being a mom.

Motherhood came into my life unexpectedly.
My baby was loved and awaited with joy, but he wasn’t planned.
I’ve always tried to “win the day” — to feel productive, like I’ve earned the right to rest.
But pregnancy and motherhood became a school that taught me how to surrender to whatever the day decides to be.
Some days you “win,” and others you just sit and watch the day pass by.
And I realize… that’s how every day should be. That’s how life should be.

My neighbor, motherhood, showed up to remind me of that — and to challenge me to live life the way I was always meant to.

In the title of this blog, I divided myself into three parts: my life, me, and my neighbor — motherhood — because that’s my way of saying, I still haven’t learned how to truly listen to life.
I keep separating my role as a mother from my own life and from myself.
And not only that — I’m trying to give 100% to all these roles, every day.
My neighbor came to slow me down — like a speed bump that keeps you from crashing further down the road.

Did I need to become a mom to understand this?
Maybe not.
Maybe after enough crashes, life teaches you anyway —
That you don’t have to compete with your days.
You don’t need to “win” them.
Maybe the goal is to become friends with your day.

The system we live in makes it nearly impossible to just be one person when we become moms or dads.
We’re split into three: who we were, who we are, and who we’re trying to be.
But chasing productivity and chasing wealth — those things don’t align with anything natural about life.

Today, the greatest wealth I desire is being able to watch my child grow by my side.
I don’t want to rush him to become independent or to be productive every day.
And when he grows up, I’ll remember to tell him:
You came into my life like a speed bump — slowing me down to protect me from crashing ahead.

On a day like today, my energy sat me down in this chair.
I wanted to make the day feel “productive” in some way.
I sat here hoping I’d get up feeling like I gave 100%.
And I knew that once I wrote these words, I’d understand my restless mind and give myself a gentle pat on the back.

You’re doing just fine, Ana.
Your baby is growing by your side, and you’re growing right alongside him.
You’re slowly connecting with people who align with your art, and you’re evolving — as an artist and as a human.

Today, in the end, I became friends with the day.
I go to bed in peace, ready to welcome my baby when he wakes up looking for me.
Tonight, I go to sleep as one person — not three.

And you?
Have you become friends with your day yet?
Have you stopped living your life split in three?