The Life I Was Barely Holding Together
I work as an administrative assistant at a small insurance office.
The kind of place where people forget your name but somehow remember every tiny thing you didn’t do.
My days are an endless loop:
- Phone calls that never stop.
- Appointments that overlap no matter how careful you are.
- Agents arguing like it’s their hobby.
- And me, pretending I can’t hear it.
I count down minutes until I can rush home.
Because home isn’t “rest.”
Home is my second shift.
My kids are five and seven.
Old enough to be hilarious and sweet… and young enough to drain every ounce of energy you have while doing it.
My ex-husband walked out two years ago.
Right after our youngest turned three.
He said he wasn’t “cut out for family life.”
Then he left like he was quitting a gym membership.
My mom stepped in without hesitation.
She works at a hospital, and on days the nanny can’t make it, she fills the gap.
That day, I heard the exhaustion in her voice when she called.
“Sweetie,” she said gently, “is it okay if I give the kids some screen time? I’ll be right there with them. I just need a moment.”
Of course I said yes.
My mom is strong, but strength doesn’t mean you don’t get tired.
So I was already running late, already stressed, already mentally calculating dinner and homework and baths and bedtime.
And then I stopped at the grocery store for survival supplies:
- Mac and cheese
- Chicken tenders
- Apples
- Juice boxes
I checked out fast, arms full of bags, and stepped into the cold parking lot thinking only about getting home.
That’s when I saw him.
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