The past year has been a whirlwind, moving into our new home, building my business, juggling health, gym, housework, and settling into a space that’s still, even after more than a month, only about 90% done. No sofa yet. No dining table yet. Financially recovering from one of the heaviest years we’ve ever experienced. Cash outflow exceeding inflow… stress beyond stress.
And yet, sometimes, I still catch myself thinking: Do I even have the right to say I’m tired?
Especially when I look around and see my friends who are parents, carrying responsibilities that are undeniably heavier, more demanding, and emotionally all-consuming.
Let me be very clear: I have nothing but respect for parents. Parenting is one of the hardest jobs in the world and it never ends. Their exhaustion is real. Their struggle is real. Their love is real.
But here’s the part that I’ve had to slowly unlearn and relearn:
Acknowledging someone else’s struggle doesn’t mean erasing your own.
There have been moments (too many, honestly) when someone casually says: “Aiya, you don’t have kids, you won’t understand.”
I know most people don’t say it with bad intentions. But it still hurts.
It hurts because despite my best efforts to show empathy, to listen, to support, to be present… my experience gets invalidated in one sentence. It hurts because it reinforces the idea that exhaustion must be “earned” through a specific life path and that unless you give birth, your stress somehow doesn’t count.
And that’s simply not true.
The Invisible Struggles of Those Without Kids
People without kids also carry invisible burdens:
Financial pressure.
Mental overwhelm.
Family dynamics.
Career and business struggles.
Health challenges.
Life transitions.
Trying to simply stay afloat in a world that demands more than any of us can give. Just because the load looks different doesn’t mean it weighs any less on the heart. I’ve had to remind myself of this again and again that exhaustion isn’t a competition.
And even more importantly: You don’t need to give birth to earn the right to feel tired.
A Conscious Choice
I also want to say this clearly. Choosing not to have kids wasn’t a careless decision for me.
It wasn’t something I woke up one day and decided on a whim.
It was a conscious, thoughtful, deeply personal choice… one shaped by the life I want to build, the responsibilities I can realistically hold, and the truth I know about my own circumstances.
Because even if I did have a child, I wouldn’t have the safety net that many people naturally rely on: no dependable, trustworthy family network to help, no grandparents I can confidently entrust my child with. It would be just me, just us, carrying everything without backup.
And beyond that… not everyone marries someone who is naturally nurturing or “father material.” There are so many factors that influence the care, safety, and emotional environment a child grows up in: stability, support, healthy dynamics, mental load, resilience. These things aren’t guaranteed just because two people get married.
And I say this with full honesty: I, of all people, know firsthand how a broken family system can wreck a child long before they even have a fair chance in life. I’ve lived through the impact. I’ve carried the wounds. And I would never bring a child into an environment where those patterns could repeat.
So yes. My decision not to have kids was made with clarity, responsibility, and deep honesty. And no, I shouldn’t be guilt-tripped into having children. No one should.
Whether someone chooses to be a parent or chooses not to be one, both paths are valid. Both require courage. Both come with sacrifices. Both shape the lives we build and the person we become.
Different Choices, Different Lives, Different Kinds of Hard
As adults, we all carry weight. Just not the same kind.
Some carry the weight of raising children.
Some carry the weight of building businesses.
Some carry the weight of healing from trauma.
Some carry the weight of caring for aging parents.
Some carry the weight of surviving.
Some carry the weight of trying again after falling apart.
Different loads.Different seasons.Different capacities. And every one of them deserves compassion, not comparison.
Showing Up Anyway
So here I am, still figuring out adulthood, still doing my best, still showing up even when I feel unqualified to be tired.
And I know many of you feel the same way, navigating your own storms quietly, carrying your own invisible struggles with grace, trying to show up for the people you love without diminishing yourself.
To all of us in this chapter of life: Your exhaustion is valid. Your feelings are valid. Your pace is valid. You don’t need to justify your fatigue. You don’t need to compare it. You don’t need anyone’s permission to feel what you feel.
We’re all just doing our best with the lives we’ve chosen and the lives we’re still trying to build. ❤️