These Past Days — On Mothers, Exhaustion, and Crossroads

Sunday, March 15, 2026

A Book That Stayed With Me

Yesterday I read a book from cover to cover: 5 cœurs en sursis by Laure Manel ( offered by a friend visiting us last month).

The story is told from the point of view of the family of the murderer — who, in their own way, also become victims of the dreadful act committed by their mother.

The woman murders a mother of three. But the book is not written from the perspective one might expect. Instead, it explores the shockwaves that travel through the family of the person who committed the crime — the confusion, the pain, the questioning, and the attempt to understand how such a tragedy could happen, and how to keep on living afterward.

It is a very powerful read. If you read French, I encourage you to pick it up. I am not sure yet if it has been published in English.

Strangely enough, while reading it, I kept thinking about Unchained Mothering.

Not because there is ever any justification for violence — of course there isn’t. The woman in the book also clearly struggled with other mental health issues. But the story quietly reveals something that society often struggles to see: the immense weight carried by mothers, especially those who make the decision to stay home and raise their families.

How alone they can sometimes feel.

How invisible their work can become.

How rarely it is truly valued.

And yet, they hold the fabric of families together.

The father in the story eventually steps up in a beautiful way. But the book is also a stark reminder that the emotional and physical load carried by mothers is often far heavier than we acknowledge.

And no — the point is not that stay-at-home mothers suddenly “lose their minds” and become killers. That is not the message.

The message, at least the one that stayed with me, is how easily society overlooks the quiet weight carried by those who hold families together every single day.

It reminded me again why Unchained Mothering exists: to make visible what too often remains unseen.

A Beautiful Weekend — But No Rest

Last weekend also gave me a beautiful gift.

I was able to hike and discover a place I had only seen in photographs. Being there in person felt almost surreal. I am deeply grateful to my husband and friends who were willing to carry me into that adventure.

In many ways it marked the conclusion of two months of nonstop work without a real break.

Ironically, while the weekend was wonderful, it did not give me the physical rest my body probably needed.

Every time I travel — which I am grateful to be able to do — I come back needing a few days to recalibrate and adjust again. But this week I didn’t have that luxury.

Because we live far from our parents and siblings, throughout our married life we have often had to rely on friends. This weekend was another reminder of how lucky we are.

My best friend from New York came to stay with our 15-year-old son and our dog. Without her, I simply would not have been able to go on this trip that had been planned for months.

Our second daughter, who is 18, was originally supposed to stay home with him. But she needed her spring break, so I had to find another plan.

I felt incredibly grateful for my friend’s help. How lucky I am to have such good friends to lean on.

Once I returned on Tuesday, I jumped straight back into an intense rhythm: caring for my son, school responsibilities, giving a 90-minute presentation at another school, meetings, deadlines, and the usual juggling between my art practice and my work with Unchained Mothering.

By Wednesday night, I cracked.

Not dramatically — just that quiet moment when you realize your reserves are empty.

My husband returned home Thursday night, and something became very clear to me.

After twenty years of carrying much of the daily needs of the children on my shoulders, I have known for a while now that I do not want to do it alone anymore.

Thankfully, my husband has stepped up in many ways over the years. But too often I am still the one left behind to deal with the equations of daily life. And I know he does a lot and is willing to do more. That’s simply how life unfolds sometimes. And it makes me think about what single mothers or single fathers must carry entirely on their own.

Fathers also carry a great deal on their shoulders. Society has simply placed different expectations on men and women. I am not throwing stones at anyone.

A mother often carries the invisible weight of raising a family. If she decides to stay home, she often does so without financial independence. If she works outside the home, the invisible load is often still there, with little real rest — sometimes even losing sleep.

At the same time, many fathers carry the immense pressure of providing for the household.

What seems clear to me is that we need to rethink the message society has drilled into us about the value of men and women — not by pushing one down to elevate the other, but by recognizing the contributions of each more fairly.

Our children are older now.

But that doesn’t mean the responsibilities disappear.

They simply change.

Something needs to evolve.

So from Friday night to Saturday night I did something very simple: I stayed home, rested, read, and allowed myself to slow down.

No rushing.

No expectations.

Just breathing again.

A Crossroad

I know how blessed I am. I am deeply grateful for the life I have built.

But the road I am walking can sometimes feel lonely.

Balancing an art career, building Unchained Mothering, raising a family, and trying to remain present in all of it is not a small task.

Thankfully, in my private life, I am well supported.

But professionally, I have reached a point where I cannot continue doing everything alone.

Before Covid, I had begun building a small team of three people. But like many others in the arts, that structure disappeared during the pandemic, and I never fully rebuilt it.

Today my work is beginning to bear fruit again.

And for several months now, something has been becoming clearer and clearer to me: I need to grow differently.

The challenge is that I have not yet fully found the way to act on what I know I need.

I am not painting dark walls here — far from it. What I see instead is a crossroad.

And for this week coming up, it feels like everything is overflowing.

Between the needs of the house, the admin work, taxes, sales-tax renewals, company and nonprofit registrations, and our personal taxes, the list is long.

At the same time, my solo show “Under My Skin” at MIFA is entering its final week. The “If You Would See” augmented reality exhibition for Unchained Mothering continues in Peacock Park in Coconut Grove.

I am also part of a group show in São Paulo, Brazil, which I have barely had time to communicate about.

An upcoming art fair in San Francisco is around the corner — thankfully I will be represented there by the Las Vegas gallery.

And life continues alongside all of this: the Juniorette Club of Coconut Grove, starting to exercise again, celebrating my mother-in-law’s birthday from afar, honoring the passing of my husband’s uncle in Holland and finding our way to participate from a distance.

And then there is the world around us — the war, and all the courageous people living through circumstances far greater than our own daily concerns.

A moment where something must evolve.

If I want to keep growing — as an artist, as a founder, and as a human being — I need to expand the circle around me.

I need help.

I need a team.

I need to learn to delegate.

Not because things are falling apart — but because if I don’t, I will eventually run straight into a wall.

And I would much rather build something sustainable than crash and burn.

This moment is not a breakdown.

It is simply the beginning of the next chapter.

Now I just need to find the courage to accept that growth — and to embrace it fully so I can keep moving forward.

We all carry full plates.