And at the end of that month? I broke.
So, I decided to go all in.
I thought that if I wasn't exhausted, I wasn't trying hard enough. I thought that saying "no" to her was saying "no" to gratitude. But after a month of showering my mother with love, I had forgotten to save any for myself.
My mother doesn’t need a month of frantic, anxious love followed by a month of burnout recovery. She needs me to show up sustainably .
She squeezed my hand. "Honey," she said. "I don't need a shower. I just need a sip of water with you."
We hear it all the time: Cherish your parents. Call your mother. Spoil her while you can.
Why pouring from an empty cup hurts everyone—and how to refill it.
The look on her face told me everything. It wasn't anger. It was confusion. She didn't see the 30 days of sacrifice; she saw one moment of cruelty.