I’m so tired. Like, bone-deep tired. It’s 2 AM and I’m just… here. Staring at the ceiling. The kids are finally asleep. Thank god. Another day done, I guess. But my stomach is just doing flips again. That familiar cramp that’s been, what, like a constant companion for months now? More than months. Years, probably. I keep telling myself it’s just the stress. The coffee. It has to be. Because what else would it be, right? I mean, I’m 31. Not exactly ancient. But lately, it feels like I’m running on fumes and a prayer. My primary care doctor, Dr. Evans, called again today. Or rather, her nurse did. Reminding me about my missed appointment. Again. My third one this month, I think. Maybe fourth. I’ve honestly lost count. I just… can’t seem to get there. Something always comes up. Like today. Liam had his school play rehearsal. He’s a tree. A very important tree, apparently. And Chloe had that last-minute science fair project that she forgot about until 6 PM last night. So, guess who was up until midnight with glitter and a hot glue gun? Me. Always me. And then Noah just… woke up screaming. For no reason. Just, screaming. Again. So, yeah. Dr. Evans’ office called. And I just sort of… told them I had a conflict. A scheduling conflict. Which, I mean, it was. Sort of. The thing is, the stomach stuff. It’s getting worse. It’s not just the cramps anymore. It’s indigestion. And heartburn. Like, a constant burning in my chest sometimes. I’ve tried cutting back on coffee. I really have. For like, an hour. But then the kids are up at 6 AM, full of energy, and I need something to just… jumpstart me. To get me through the morning gauntlet of breakfast and outfits and remembering permission slips. I need it. It’s not a want. It’s a literal necessity. Dr. Evans, bless her heart, left a message last week. Said she was concerned. Wanted to rule out a few things. She used words like ‘gastric’ and ‘inflammatory markers.’ Which, okay. Sounds fancy. And serious. I guess. But then I remember Liam needs new cleats for soccer, and Chloe has that art club thing, and Noah just started pulling himself up and I can’t take my eyes off him for a second. So, a colonoscopy? Or whatever it is she wants to do? How am I supposed to fit that in? Who takes the kids? My mom helps sometimes, but she’s got her own stuff going on. And my ex… HA. Good one. Sometimes I just wonder if I’m… faking it. Not consciously, obviously. But like, maybe I’m subconsciously creating these symptoms because I’m just so, so overwhelmed. Is that a thing? Like, psychosomatic? My sister, who’s really into, like, manifesting, once told me I needed to “listen to my body.” And I just stared at her blankly. Because my body is telling me it needs more sleep, less caffeine, and about a week alone in a quiet room. None of which are happening. Ever. I just feel this… this pressure. From everywhere. From school, from the kids, from myself. To be everything, all the time. The perfect mom, the organized mom, the mom who never misses a field trip or a bake sale. And I just… I don’t know. I feel like if I actually *stop* and deal with this stomach thing, whatever it is, that everything else will just fall apart. The whole house of cards. And then what? Who catches it all? So, I cancel the appointments. Again. And then I drink another coffee. And tell myself it’s fine. It’s just stress. Just caffeine. It has to be. Because the alternative… the alternative is too much to even think about right now. It just… is. And the burning in my chest just gets a little bit worse. And I just close my eyes and try to ignore it. For now.