Auditing My Life as a Single Mum (Findings: Too Many Noodles, Not Enough Vegetables)

 

I’ve started auditing my life.

Not because I’m thriving.

Not because I’ve “found balance”.

But because the numbers were no longer adding up and I don’t ignore discrepancies — even when the balance sheet is my own nervous system.

This is not a glow-up.

This is a restructuring exercise.

Why an audit?

When things start feeling off, people usually say:

• “You need a break”
• “You’re doing amazing”
• “Have you tried manifesting?”

I prefer facts.

Audits don’t care about vibes.

They care about what’s actually happening.

So I opened the books.

Audit Adjustments This Quarter

• Noodles → vegetables
• Alcohol → herbal tea
• “I’ll remember that” → writing it down immediately
• Skipping meals → eating like I’m legally responsible for someone’s survival
• Pushing through → pausing before I lose my mind
• Reacting → regulating
• “It’s fine, I’ll deal with it later” → this is now accruing interest

No judgement.

No shame.

Just reclassification.

Assets (surprisingly solid, considering)

• One child who is delightful, feral, and emotionally perceptive enough to detect stress before I’ve even admitted it
• A brain that still works, though it now requires snacks and silence to function optimally
• The ability to laugh at things that would once have sent me into a spiral
• Writing things down instead of treating my memory like a bottomless pit
• Calm — recently upgraded from “nice to have” to “core asset”

Intangible assets include:

• Perspective (acquired through suffering, would not recommend as a course)
• Resilience (non-transferable, non-refundable)
• The growing awareness that being okay is more valuable than being impressive

Liabilities (we’re being honest now)

• Sleep deprivation (long-term liability, high interest rate, zero repayment plan)
• Stress I thought I’d “handled” but actually just buried under productivity
• Financial pressure that pretends it’s logical but is, in fact, emotional
• Alcohol, previously misclassified as “self-care”, now correctly listed as an expense
• The belief that holding everything in my head is a strength and not a warning sign

Some liabilities don’t announce themselves.

They just sit there quietly until one day you snap at someone over something deeply unimportant and then apologise because you’re not actually an arsehole — you’re just overloaded.

Profit and loss (emotional edition)

Some days I’m operating at a profit:

• I eat real food
• I move my body
• I don’t catastrophise
• I feel vaguely human

Other days are a straight loss:

• Everything feels heavy
• My skin is dry, my patience is thinner, and my tolerance for nonsense is zero
• I wonder how I used to do more than this and still look like I had a life

The old me would judge those days.

The current me treats them like any half-decent accountant would:

“Right. What caused this variance?”

Answer, nine times out of ten:

underinvestment in rest and overexposure to stress.

Health is just another balance sheet (sorry, but it is)

Energy in vs energy out.

Care in vs neglect out.

Truth acknowledged vs truth buried.

Unhealed things don’t disappear.

They just sit there quietly distorting everything else until you finally admit they exist.

This is not a personal failure.

This is basic accounting.

A note on “having it together”

Some people look very solvent until you open the books.

Some people look chaotic but are actually doing the most sensible thing possible:

stopping, reassessing, and rebuilding properly.

Right now, I’m not maximising output.

I’m restoring stability.

Which, inconveniently, is exactly what you do when something actually matters.

Final audit opinion

I used to think I needed to be:

• More organised
• More disciplined
• Better at coping
• Better at holding everything together

What I actually needed was:

• Fewer liabilities
• More vegetables
• Less alcohol
• And a nervous system that isn’t permanently in overdraft

So no, I’m not reinventing myself.

I’m just reading the numbers properly

and adjusting before the whole thing collapses.

Which feels…

responsible.

Sustainable.

And annoyingly effective.