Walk me Home
A friend of mine recently told me that she considers me a seriously private person. She mentioned it in passing, not as a criticism, just an observation. I was genuinely surprised at the comment. I had been locked away in my house for a few months, barely seeing the light of day because I was struggling after the birth of my second son.
I realized at that moment I was deeply ashamed of the fact that I wasn’t doing well. I didn’t understand HOW people could actually manage two kids at once, and why NO ONE TOLD ME that two kids actually magically equaled TWELVE kids. I was drowning in laundry, missed nap times, Cocomelon, dry shampoo, and loneliness. I looked at her, thinking, “Can she handle the truth of how horribly I’m actually doing, or is she just asking out of kindness?””
I am always afraid of being authentic, afraid of ruining what could be a "fun" moment with a friend by dumping all my shit on them. Afraid I will be a downer, a killjoy, and boring. What if my friend is looking for a lighthearted laugh and I show up with tears in my eyes and milk stains on my t-shirt and nothing positive to say?
I’m also terrible at small talk. I want to talk about what’s really going on, or it all seems pointless. So sometimes I just stay quiet or experience major social anxiety.
I also consider myself a positive person, so when I'm going through a difficult time it is hard for me to admit it. With so many women who struggle to have children, it’s hard to be honest about how painful this season can be. I have two beautiful children, and I don't want to appear ungrateful.
The other component is that no one can really help you at 2, 3, or 4 am when you've been up all night. The irrational thoughts that start to run through your head all make perfect sense at that point. You're sleepless, hormonal, and your life is definitely NEVER going to be the same again. Your baby IS going to cry for the rest of their life. Your baby is losing weight, starving to death before your eyes on your insufficient breast milk. Your toddler hates you and feels completely abandoned. The bond you once shared is gone forever. You will never be able to sit on the floor and comfortably play with them because your body is so wrecked. You can't stand your selfish, deplorable husband, for all the right reasons. What a selfish asshole to be able to sleep through this living hell and escape to his office every day to work. On and on - these crazy thoughts seem totally rational.
I remember at a particularly low moment crying to my older sister about how hard this time was, and how genuinely shocked I was that I felt so inept, unprepared, and incapable. She sent me the song “Walk me Home” by Pink and it brought me comfort soooo many nights when I was up alone in the middle of the night.
My friends offered to help, but at the moment, I didn’t even know WHAT to ask for. The only dear friend who was able to help me just stealthily texted me that she was on her way with dinner and attempted to drop it off without "interrupting" our day. I tackled her in the driveway, wrangled her into the house, and cried on her shoulder. She showed up the next 2 weeks with another salad for me. It was absolutely incredible and probably the only green thing I ate for weeks, other than when my parents came to town and my mom fed life back into me.
The truth is, I've been through a lot of ups and downs in my life—some that might seem ordinary, and others that have felt more extreme than what others might experience. I’ve often judged myself for being “too sensitive” or for feeling life’s transitions “too deeply” so in addition to feeling life deeply, I’m judging myself for that too. Wow.
Sometimes, I’ve even felt embarrassed for trying to find so much meaning in everyday life, as if that’s something to be ashamed of. But here’s the thing: right now, it feels easier to write this out and share it with strangers than to speak it aloud to a friend I might bump into at the grocery store. Vulnerability can feel overwhelming like that sometimes.
I’m sharing this in the hope that it reaches someone who’s been up alone all night, or someone home alone with small children, or someone juggling internal conflicts and feeling isolated. Maybe they’re nursing a baby while the world sleeps, or worrying about an older child, or just sitting there, feeling alone.
But here’s what I’ve learned: just acknowledging how I feel—whether through writing, speaking it out loud, or even crying alongside my baby —brings me a huge sense of relief. It’s in those moments that I feel most connected to myself and start to understand the tension I’ve been holding in my body.
If you are holding all this in your body, I cannot recommend enough that you start writing it out- to yourself- or to a friend - or even to me. I’ll hold it with you. Set the intention that writing it will release some of the stress, sadness and anger from your body, and I promise you that it will.
I’ve also realized that when I allow myself to fully feel the sadness, anger, and those heavier emotions, it actually frees me up to experience happiness and joy on a much deeper level. It’s like the two ends of the emotional spectrum work together—they complement each other. By embracing the lows, I’ve expanded my capacity to truly feel the highs
Maybe you’ve felt that too? If so- or if you want to share your story with me- I’d love to hear from you. Write to me at emily@wiseandwild.com and share what’s on your heart—whether it’s something you’re carrying alone, something that’s been keeping you up at night, or simply what resonated with you. I’m here to listen and hold space for you.
https://open.spotify.com/track/7DHApOHsIFo7EyfieArYGE
https://music.apple.com/us/album/walk-me-home-single/1453199363