a day in the life of a latvian mom

It’s been a strange week.

Coming back to work after being away for a month sounds simple in theory — you just open your laptop and continue where you left off. But that’s not how it feels. It’s more like stepping into a moving train, trying to find your balance while everything is already in motion.

I was on sick leave, and now I’m back. Back to messages, back to problems, back to people needing answers.

I work in IT, in client support. Which, in simple terms, means helping clients (mostly managers of some sort) solve their business problems using reports. I won’t go into details — not because I don’t want to share, but because it’s the kind of work that’s hard to explain without getting lost in it.

What matters is that it’s demanding.

And the hardest part? I’ve been there for three years, and I still feel like I’m not as good as the others.

They seem like wunderkinds. Or maybe workaholics. Or maybe just… deeply into IT and OLAPs. The kind of people who read IT news in their free time, who enjoy diving deeper after work hours. That’s not me. Sometimes I talk with Jānis about things, but not because I’m obsessed with IT. My mind goes elsewhere — to the garden, to writing, to small everyday things that make life feel softer.

Here is my last youtube video:

And so this week felt heavy already.

Then I called my mom to congratulate her on her name-day, and in that conversation, everything shifted a little. She told me my cousin had called — his mom, Velta, had passed away. The funeral is on Saturday.

Latvian funerals… they are not quiet, distant events. They are close, real, open. Open casket, long goodbyes, people gathering not just to mourn, but to remember fully.

Velta was dear to me. And I can’t go. It’s heavy.

The reason I was on sick leave wasn’t something visible. It was nerves. The kind that don’t just go away because you tell them to. The kind that makes even everyday things feel like climbing a hill. I take pills to just to get through normal days. Which sounds ironic — because from the outside, it might look like I’ve been “resting.”

But this isn’t rest.

I know people say — relax more, slow down, disconnect. I feel like I already do all that. I’m not chasing news, I’m not filling my head with everything happening in the world. And still, somehow, it all seeps in.

Sometimes I think I was made for a quieter time. And now I sit here, writing this. Not because it solves anything. Not because it changes anything. Just… to put it somewhere outside of myself.

Maybe it doesn’t matter. But it feels a little lighter once it’s said.

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