Breaking the Cycle — My Why

I’ve been on nanny duties.

Alarm going off early.
School runs.
Getting a 5-year-old dressed, fed, organised, and out the door by 8am.

I had forgotten how full on this stage of life is.

This morning I found myself sitting at the school park eating some lunch after a day that had been go-go since 6am. And honestly, I was absolutely buggered.

But as I sat there watching my wee dude play, something hit me.

This is my why

Not the big, flashy reasons people talk about when they speak about healing or “personal growth.”
Not the inspirational quotes.

Just the small, ordinary moments.

Morning hugs.
Helping with homework.
Watching him colour with this intense concentration like it’s the most important job in the world.

Those moments.

People don’t see the reality behind chronic illness.

They don’t see the days when your body doesn’t cooperate.
The exhaustion that sits deep in your bones.
The constant work of managing symptoms, appointments, rest, and trying to function in a world that doesn’t slow down.

Living with things like Functional Neurological Disorder and persistent dizziness isn’t some inspirational journey.

Some days it’s messy.
Some days it’s frustrating.
Some days it feels like your own body is working against you.

But then there are days like today.

Sitting on a park bench.
Watching a little human grow.
Realising that every bit of healing work you’re doing actually means something.

Because for me, this isn’t just about getting through the day anymore.

It’s about breaking generational crap.

The patterns.
The trauma.
The things that quietly get passed down because nobody stops long enough to face them.

Somewhere along the line someone has to say:

This stops with me.

The healing.
The boundaries.
The uncomfortable work of looking at yourself and choosing to do better.

It’s not easy.
It’s not quick.
And it’s definitely not pretty most of the time.

But it matters.

Because if doing this work means there are more days like this…

More park dates.
More school runs.
More moments where I get to just sit and watch him be a kid.

Then every hard step is worth it.

That little boy probably has no idea how much motivation he gives me just by being himself.

But he’s, my reason.

My why.

And some days, that’s more than enough to keep going