When I Thought I Had Failed

What Falling Off the Wagon Taught Me About Healing

I thought I had failed.

I ate what felt like a year's worth of sweets in a week.

I binged on food.

I binged on social media.

I disconnected.

I shut down.

I cried in my bedroom with a plate of pumpkin bars while trying to hide it from my kids.

I couldn't parent.

I couldn't do basic daily things.

I couldn't show up as the version of myself I've been working so hard to become.

I honestly felt like I had completely fallen off the wagon.

But as I sat there processing it all...

I realized something.

I didn't fail.

I was triggered.

Wow...

It's so easy to fall back into our old destructive patterns.

One stressful week. A few triggers.

And suddenly it can feel like we're right back where we started.

Consumed.

Disconnected.

Tapped out.

Burnt out.

Crabby.

Hopeless.

Lost.

This past week has had me thinking a lot about that.

It also had me thinking about something else.

What does it actually feel like to feel safe?

What does it feel like to be connected?

To be grounded?

To genuinely feel okay?

And then...

What does it feel like when we don't?

When we feel disconnected.

Triggered.

Lost.

When our nervous system quietly slips back into survival mode.

I've made so many leaps and bounds over the past year.

And yet...

There I was again.

Sitting in my bedroom.

Crying over a plate of pumpkin bars.

I couldn't parent.

I couldn't clean.

I felt frozen.

Stuck.

So I started asking myself...

Why?

The week leading up to this wasn't exactly calm.

I had just finished six 12-hour shifts at the hospital.

Then I had one day off to prepare our home for our Fourth of July party.

The party went great, everyone had fun.

The next morning my husband left town for his annual Lake Michigan fishing trip, leaving me home with our two girls.

That same evening we had another birthday party to attend.

By the end of the week...

I crashed.

Hard.

I found myself crying into a pillow where my kids couldn't see me.

Throwing pillows.

Punching pillows.

Trying to release the anger that had been building inside me all week.

I called my husband.

I told him how awful it had been.

How overwhelmed I felt.

How alone I felt.

After exchanging some choice words...

I hung up.

Furious.

He was hundreds of miles away, enjoying himself without a care in the world.

And in another week...

He'll leave again for his annual Alaska fishing trip.

I felt betrayed.

I felt incredibly lonely.

Like I had the weight of the world sitting on my shoulders...

...and no one to help carry it.

But if I'm honest...

This didn't start when he left.

It started long before that.

It was building while I was preparing for the party.

While I was working all those shifts.

While I was looking ahead at another July where I'd spend weeks feeling like a single, working mom while he was away fishing.

I already knew how this story was going to go.

Because I've lived it before.

Every July.

For years.

As I sat there trying to make sense of it all...

Something finally clicked.

I wasn't failing.

I wasn't lazy.

I wasn't weak.

My nervous system was overwhelmed.

And honestly...

I don't blame it.

As I sat there reflecting on everything...

I started asking myself another question.

What actually triggered me?

It wasn't just that my husband left.

It wasn't just the party.

It wasn't just work.

It was everything together.

It was another week of saying yes when my nervous system was already screaming no.

And then I realized...

This wasn't a new pattern.

I've been doing this for as long as I can remember.

For as long as I can remember, I have always been the host.

I LOVE hosting people.

I love taking care of people.

Why do you think I became a nurse?

One of the things that has always brought me the most joy is making people feel loved.

I love planning parties.

I love decorating.

I love making people feel special.

When we bought our home, I even picked so much of it with hosting in mind.

I wanted it to be a place where people gathered.

A place where people felt welcome.

A place where people felt cared for.

Ever since I was young I've been hosting something.

Christmas.

Halloween.

Graduation.

Engagements.

Baby showers.

Weddings.

Birthday parties.

You name it.

And honestly...

My favorite kind of party was never for me.

It was the one I got to throw for someone else.

I wanted them to feel celebrated.

Seen.

Loved.

Important.

As I've been reflecting on all of this...

I'm beginning to realize something.

Maybe it isn't just hosting.

Maybe it's people-pleasing.

Maybe somewhere along the way I started believing my worth came from taking care of everyone else.

From making everyone else happy.

From making sure everyone else felt loved.

Even if it meant completely exhausting myself.

There is one memory that keeps coming back to me.

It's something I'll never forget.

When I was pregnant with my first daughter, my dad and stepmom threw me a baby shower.

I still cry when I think about it.

Out of all the parties I had spent my life planning for other people...

I had never really had one for me.

Not since I was little.

At the time, we weren't married yet.

They didn't approve of us having a baby before we got married.

The year before, they had experienced the unimaginable loss of my five-month-old baby sister.

Money was tight.

They had every reason not to do it.

But they did anyway.

They went above and beyond to give me the most beautiful baby shower.

I remember walking in and feeling something I don't think I had ever fully allowed myself to feel before.

I felt seen.

I felt cared for.

I felt celebrated.

I felt loved.

Not because I had earned it.

Not because I had planned it.

Not because I had made it happen for everyone else.

Simply because they wanted to love me.

My "thank you" didn't seem like enough.

I still have letters I wrote afterward thanking them and tell them how much it meant to me.

Letters I never even gave them.

I don't know why it's been so hard for me to admit just how much that day meant to me.

But it did.

It melted something inside of me.

As I've been reflecting on all of this...

I'm realizing that one of my deepest wounds isn't just people-pleasing.

It's feeling forgotten.

Invisible.

Like I have to earn being loved by taking care of everyone else first.

Maybe that's why hosting has always meant so much to me.

Maybe every party wasn't just about celebrating someone else.

Maybe somewhere deep down...

I was hoping someone would notice me too.

Then another realization hit me.

Hosting doesn't just take physical energy.

It drains my nervous system.

There's the planning.

The shopping.

The cooking.

The cleaning.

The decorating.

The setup.

The cleanup.

The mental load.

The emotional load.

The pressure of making sure everyone has a good time.

And if I'm honest...

I usually do most of it myself.

Not because anyone expects me to.

Because I don't want to feel like a burden.

It wasn't until my daughter's birthday party a few months ago that I realized it took me almost five full days to recover afterward.

Five days.

That isn't normal.

Or maybe...

It is just my normal.

I've simply ignored what my body has been trying to tell me.

For years.

The more I sat with everything that happened this week...

The clearer the picture became.

Maybe I don't need to be the girl who hosts everything.

Maybe I don't need to be the one who always says yes.

Maybe I don't need to prove my worth by taking care of everyone else.

Maybe I can ask for help.

Maybe I can decide not to host.

Maybe I can protect the days after big events so my nervous system has time to recover.

Maybe I can start saying "no"...

Before my body says it for me.

As I kept reflecting...

I realized something else.

When I called my husband that night, I truly believed I was justified in being angry.

I wanted him to hear how overwhelmed I was.

I wanted him to understand how much I had sacrificed.

I wanted empathy.

An apology.

I wanted him to tell me he wouldn't do this again.

When he didn't respond the way I had hoped... I was furious.

But after sitting with it...

Something uncomfortable dawned on me.

I had a part in creating this situation.

I was the one who told him he could go.

I was the one who decided to host the party.

I was the one who kept saying yes...

Even when every part of me was saying no.

That realization wasn't meant to make me feel guilty.

It was actually freeing.

Because if I helped create the pattern...

Then maybe I have the power to change it.

The truth is...

We often have more control than we realize.

I could have asked people to help prepare for the party.

I could have hired someone to help clean.

I could have decided not to host this year.

I could have protected my schedule afterward to allow myself to recover.

And when it came to my husband's fishing trips...

I could have held my boundary.

The truth is...

At first, I did.

I told him no.

I told him I didn't think it was a good idea.

But then...

I felt guilty.

So I gave in.

Not because he forced me to.

Because I didn't want to disappoint him.

Looking back now...

I see a different question.

What is actually more damaging to our family?

Is it my husband feeling disappointed for a few days because I lovingly held a boundary?

Or is it continuing a pattern where I keep saying yes...

Until I'm completely burnt out...

Numb...

Overwhelmed...

And resentful?

Who do my children need?

A mom who hosts the perfect party?

Or a mom who is emotionally present?

Who knows her limits.

Who protects her peace.

Who models healthy boundaries.

Who teaches them that it's okay to say no.

I think I know the answer.

Healing has taught me something I never expected.

Sometimes the most loving thing we can do... might disappoint someone.

Not because we don't love them.

But because we finally love ourselves, and the realtionship, enough to stop abandoning ourselves.

That one is hard for me.

Really hard.

But I think it's something I need to learn.

So the next time you feel like you've fallen off the wagon...

Pause.

Before you tell yourself you're failing...

Ask yourself a different question.

What happened that caused my nervous system to slip back into survival mode?

Get curious.

Not judgmental.

Curious.

What was the trigger?

Where did you push yourself past your limits?

Where did you say yes when you really meant no?

Where did you convince yourself you were "fine" when you weren't?

Then, instead of shaming yourself...

Learn from it.

Maybe your body wasn't betraying you.

Maybe it was trying to protect you.

Maybe it was simply saying,

"I can't keep doing this."

Listen to it.

Forgive yourself.

Adjust.

And try again.

Healing isn't about never falling off the wagon.

Healing is learning why you fell.

Showing yourself grace instead of shame.

Learning something new.

And choosing differently the next time.

That isn't failure.

That's growth.

That's healing.

And that's exactly what I'm learning too.