Worthy

Alright… let’s talk about something I don’t think people say out loud enough.

Every single morning… and I mean every single morning… I wake up, throw the covers off, sit on the edge of the bed, and I ask myself the same question.

“What is my worth today?”

It’s automatic. No thought behind it anymore. Just part of how the day starts.

And before my feet even hit the floor… my brain starts building the answer.

It pulls from everything.

From the job that’s waiting on my computer.

From the kids still down the hall.

From the lessons I’ve got planned later.

From the house that never quite stays clean.

It all blends together.

I’m not sitting there thinking, “What’s my worth at work?” or “What’s my worth as a mom?”

It’s all one thing.

It’s… did I show up yesterday?

Did I miss something?

Am I behind before I even start?

Because I know how the day is about to go.

I’ll log into work and do what needs done. Answer emails. Keep things moving. Be dependable. Be consistent. That part is structured. Clear.

Then the rest of my life fills in around it.

Kids waking up.

Breakfast happening… or not happening smoothly.

Trying to get everyone out the door looking halfway put together.

And in the middle of all that… I’m already thinking ahead.

Lesson plans for the night.

Who needs what from me.

Where the holes are.

What needs fixed, adjusted, encouraged.

And somehow… I’m still trying to hold the house together too.

Laundry.

Dinner.

The constant reset that never really resets anything.

It’s not separate roles.

It’s one running thread.

And right in the middle of it… is me.

Usually catching my reflection for half a second as I move through the bathroom.

And that’s all it takes.

One glance… and now the conversation shifts.

Now it’s not about what I’m doing.

It’s about what I see.

Hair not right.

Face looks tired.

Lines showing up more than they used to.

Gray hair coming in… which I’ll give credit to, it’s got some character.

But still… I pick.

And that scale sitting there? Same thing every day. Silent… but loud.

And now everything that was already running through my head just stacks on top of it.

Work.

Kids.

House.

Body.

All tied together into one question.

“What is my worth today?”

And I know the answers I’m supposed to give.

I’ve said them to other people.

Your worth isn’t tied to your job.

Your worth isn’t tied to your body.

Your worth isn’t tied to how much you got done in a day.

I believe that.

But I also know what it feels like when your brain doesn’t follow along so easily.

Because if I feel off in my own skin… the whole day feels off.

Shorter patience.

Heavier mood.

Everything just feels a little harder than it needs to.

So now I’m standing there, mid-morning, already negotiating with myself.

Trying to balance what I know… with what I feel.

And here’s what I’ve started to realize.

It’s not that I don’t think I’m capable.

It’s that I don’t let anything count.

I keep raising the bar before I ever reach it.

I’ll show up. Handle everything. Keep people moving forward.

And instead of saying, “That was solid,” I shift the target.

Higher. Better. More.

Every single time.

So of course that question in the morning feels heavy.

I’ve built it that way.

I don’t give myself a place to land.

So maybe the shift isn’t in fixing everything.

Maybe it’s in how the conversation starts.

Maybe tomorrow morning… when I sit on the edge of the bed…

Instead of asking, “What is my worth today?”…

I try something different.

I talk to myself the same way I talk to my kids.

The same way I talk to my students.

Clear. Honest. No hesitation.

“You’re doing a lot… and you’re handling it.”

“You show up when it matters.”

“You take care of your people.”

“You figure things out.”

And yeah…

“You look better than you think you do.”

“You’re holding it together better than it feels.”

“You’re kind of a baddie, whether you want to admit it or not.”

Then I get up.

And I carry that version of the conversation with me instead.