I almost didn’t make it today.

The first sign that I’m sinking too deep into my thoughts is that I stop drinking water. I’m not entirely sure how these two actions are connected, but somehow they’ve found a link within my system. I normally make it a habit to drink at least a gallon of water a day. Drinking water helps me feel full, but it also curbs my cravings for sweet drinks (mostly cold coffees — Starbucks, of course).

I hadn’t taken a shower in many days. I tend to do this when I’m numb. I forget to brush my teeth and shower — the basics. But I’m a mom, so I force myself out of bed and into the living room, where I halfway spend the day with my kids. I open my mouth wide to smile and dance with them during the day. But at night, when it’s time to lay my head down, it feels as though I never left the bed at all. It’s almost as if someone else is moving my body with invincible strings.

It is not depression. I am not depressed.

I am, however, numb. And a little lost. It almost feels like I’ve been lost for a long time. Finding one’s own voice is hard. Today, I told my 16-year-old to find her voice and use it. I see myself in her so often, it’s scary. It’s terrifying to think she might walk this world in my shoes. When I see her people-pleasing and holding back her true concerns, I see the damage it does to her self-confidence, and I feel ashamed. I have failed to show her how much power she has in her voice.

Some of you may know this if you’ve read any of my other ramblings — I was raised by nuns. I grew up wanting to please God. I mistook men for God and mistook caregivers for my mom. My mom wasn’t there because she was cleaning houses to pay the fee for the Christian home. She had no choice. But I have a choice. I want to be here for my daughter and my sons. I am a mother. But I am also a woman with a hurt inner child. Can you raise children this way? Can you raise thoughtful, powerful, assertive, and kind children when you’re still healing yourself?

Water is essential. About 60% of the body is made of water, right? When I was a child living in the Christian home, my favorite paseo (trip) was to Río Palo Verde — a river in Costa Rica. I loved being in the water. Everything about it woke my senses: the sound, the taste, even the musky green colors. As I’ve grown older, water has become a dull, monotonous requirement for life. Why?

Why do we, as children, experience our senses so differently? I loved food, movies, sounds, music, and words. But I’ve lost all sense of excitement for the very things that helped me grow up. Now, as I mother two little kids, I am forced to redirect my gaze, to refocus, to recreate with my mind and my hands. Nothing comes to me. I struggle.

So I almost didn’t make it today. I almost went to bed without forcing myself to write a little piece of my raging thoughts. But I remembered. I forced myself to rediscover my voice so I can teach my kids to find theirs and use it in ways that improve their well-being — but also the well-being of the world.

The world is hurting. And hurt isolates.