Sandy Esprit

Lately, there’s been this quiet heaviness sitting with me. It’s not loud, but it’s constant. I’m a stay-at-home mom. I homeschool. I manage our home. I’ve been building my business piece by piece, believing that one day it would be enough to sustain us.

And now, with the cost of living going up and resources feeling like they’re disappearing, I’m forced to ask myself a question that makes me uncomfortable:

How long can I realistically keep doing this?

The Life We Built (And the Parts You Don’t See)

Stay-at-home mom, homeschooling, unpaid labor, family roles
For most of my marriage, my work lived inside the home. I raised our children. I homeschooled them. I held the rhythm of our days together. At the same time, I was building something of my own — quietly, slowly, often invisibly.

My husband worked tediously outside the home. Long hours. Physical strain. Showing up even when his body was tired. We both carried weight, just in different ways. We told ourselves this was the season. That this was the sacrifice.

And in many ways, it worked.

We’ve reached goals we once prayed for. We’ve grown. We’ve built a life we’re proud of. But now I find myself wondering — at what cost?

His body is breaking down. He’s more tired than I’ve ever seen him. The years are catching up, and I feel it deeply. The pressure to figure this out feels heavier than ever because I don’t want everything we’ve built to come at the expense of his health.

Progress That Feels Too Slow

Working for yourself, affiliate marketing, brand collaborations, slow growth
I am working. I haven’t stopped.

The affiliate links are being clicked. The audience is growing. There are signs of progress — and I don’t take that lightly.

But the collaborations aren’t coming as quickly as I need them to. And while it looks like momentum on paper, it doesn’t always translate into security. It’s hard to explain the emotional toll of seeing growth but still feeling like you’re constantly catching up.

It feels like being told, “You’re almost there,” over and over again — without ever fully arriving.

I’m grateful. Truly. But gratitude doesn’t cancel out the anxiety that comes with wondering if this will ever be enough.

The Fear I Don’t Say Out Loud Often

Returning to work, traditional employment fears, modern job market
I’m scared.

I don’t want to go back to work in the traditional sense. Not because I don’t want to work — I already do. Constantly. But because the life we’ve built depends on my presence. Homeschooling isn’t something I can half-do. Running our home isn’t something that fits neatly into evenings and weekends.

And the job market isn’t what it used to be. Wages haven’t kept up. Flexibility is promised but rarely real. Childcare costs can erase an entire income. The idea of stepping back into a system that feels unforgiving and unstable terrifies me.

The hardest part to admit is this: I don’t know what else to do.

And even writing that feels vulnerable.

When Faith, Calling, and Reality Collide

Faith and finances, purpose-driven work, motherhood calling
This is the space I’m living in right now — where faith meets survival.

I believe in the work I’m doing. I believe it has purpose. I believe it matters. But belief doesn’t always show up as immediate provision, and trusting God feels harder when the numbers don’t line up the way you hoped they would.

I wrestle with questions I know so many women carry quietly:

• How do I keep going without burning out?
• How do I support my family without disappearing from my own life?
• How do I pivot without feeling like I failed?

Staying Honest in the In-Between

Living in uncertainty, balancing motherhood and work, trusting the process
I don’t have a perfect conclusion. I don’t have a five-step plan.

What I have is honesty.

I’m learning that it’s okay to sit in the uncertainty. That it’s okay to grieve the version of stability I thought would come sooner. And that slow progress doesn’t mean wasted time.

I’m still here. Still building. Still trying. Still trusting that the same God who carried us this far hasn’t forgotten us now.

If you’re reading this and you’re in a similar place — trying to hold your family together while holding onto your calling — know that you’re not alone. Some of us are doing the best we can with faith in one hand and fear in the other.

And for now, that has to be enough.