I’m Not the Same Woman I Was—And That’s a Good Thing
A Moment of “wait…who even am i?”
Somewhere between packing lunches, yelling “get in the car!” for the 12th time, and trying to remember if I actually washed my hair this week, I had this weird moment of clarity. Like, who even am I anymore? Not in a dramatic, spiral-y kind of way (okay, maybe a little), but more in that bone-deep “I don’t recognize this version of me” sort of way. I’ve spent so long being needed—by my partner, by my kids, by life in general—that I stopped asking myself what I need. This isn’t some perfectly timed reawakening story. This is me, in the middle of the mess, saying out loud: I want myself back.
Life Isn’t Quiet or calm
Let’s just be real: calm and quiet are not the words anyone would use to describe my life. I’ve got five kids. FIVE. That’s a basketball team and a benchwarmer. Add in marriage, sports, school pickups, forgotten permission slips, work, and the constant scream-whisper of “what’s for dinner?”—and that’s just Monday.
I don’t say this to complain. I love my people and I love this wild, noisy life we’ve built. But somewhere along the way, I became background noise in my own story. I was the default. The keeper of appointments, snacks, and emotional regulation for everyone but me. There’s this unspoken expectation that if you’re doing “all the things,” you should be grateful and quiet about it. But I’m done being silent. I’m allowed to say I’m overwhelmed. I’m allowed to say I’m exhausted. And I’m allowed to want more—for myself, not just from myself. Motherhood has a way of making you disappear in plain sight. You’re still here—driving carpool, making dentist appointments, buying the damn Lunchables—but you’re not here. Not in the way you used to be. Not in the way that feels like you.
I spent years thinking, “When things calm down, I’ll figure out who I am again.” But the truth? Life doesn’t calm down. There’s no magical day coming when the laundry folds itself, the to-do list gets shorter, and I suddenly remember how to dream. So instead of waiting, I’m reclaiming. Bit by bit. I’m peeling back the layers of who I’ve had to be, and reconnecting with who I actually am underneath it all. Some of her is new—stronger, softer, a little sassier. Some of her is the girl I used to be before I was called “Mom” on repeat. But she’s still there. And she’s ready to come out again.
Healing Isn’t Pretty
Nobody told me healing would look like crying in my car after school pickup. Or sitting in silence and letting the uncomfortable feelings just exist without trying to fix them. Healing has not been linear. It’s been chaotic, inconvenient, and slow. It’s looked like standing up for myself in quiet ways. Saying “I need help” out loud. Letting go of the version of me that kept it all together at the cost of herself. But it’s also been liberating. Like taking off a costume I didn’t realize I was wearing. I’m no longer obsessed with becoming the “better” version of me. I just want the real one. The one who says the wrong thing sometimes, cries over books, swears when I stub my toe, and still believes in love and second chances. I’m not healed. But I’m healing. And that’s enough.
Look, I used to roll my eyes at the term “self-care.” It felt like a Pinterest board made by people who live in houses with zero crumbs and daily gratitude meditations. But now? I get it. Self-care, for me, is claiming time that isn’t about productivity. It’s letting myself read a spicy book instead of answering emails, microwaving the leftovers instead of cooking from scratch again, and it’s saying “I don’t have the capacity for that right now” without guilt. None of it is luxurious and it’s definitely not trendy… it’s survival. It’s reclaiming little moments of control and comfort in a life that demands so much of me. And most importantly, it’s realizing that I matter—not just to everyone else, but to me.
I wish I could tell you I had some breakthrough, some “aha!” moment that changed everything. But the truth? This isn’t a one-and-done thing. This is daily work. These are small choices. This is falling apart on Thursday and trying again on Friday. I still have days when I question everything. Days I feel resentful and raw and so bone-tired I could cry over spilled cereal (and have). But I also have days that feel like light. Moments of peace I didn’t think I’d feel again. I’m rebuilding myself—not from scratch, but from the pieces that survived. And every time I choose myself in small ways, I get a little closer to feeling whole.
My Digital Junk Drawer of Chaos + Growth
LIFE LATELY is my digital junk drawer. The soft, scrappy, sacred place where all the pieces of me land. It’s where the thoughts go that don’t have a neat category. The moments that don’t make it to the group chat. The healing I’m still in the middle of.
Here, you’ll find the unfiltered stuff:
– Parenting wins + losses.
– My mental health journey.
– Marriage life: the real version.
– Rants, realizations, and WTF moments.
It’s where I talk about:
– Learning to love myself through the ugly parts.
– Practicing gratitude when things feel heavy.
– What I’m learning + letting go of.
– The things that make me feel alive.
Basically? If it’s part of my real life right now, it might end up here. Not because it’s profound or polished, but because it’s mine. And maybe… It’s a little bit yours too. So when you scroll through Life Lately, expect a mix of moods. Expect soft moments and spicy takes. Expect honesty over aesthetics. Because life doesn’t fit neatly into folders. And neither do we.
You Don’t Have to Heal Quietly
If you’ve ever looked around and realized you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror anymore… you’re not alone. If you’ve ever thought, “I love my life, but I miss myself,” welcome. You belong here. This space isn’t about pretending. It’s about telling the truth. It’s about honoring the fact that you can love your people and still want time away from them. That you can be grateful and exhausted. That you can be messy and still worthy of joy. So come as you are—sweats, chaos, crumbs, and all.
You don’t have to heal quietly anymore. You don’t have to wait for permission, you can start now. And if you need someone to say, “Same,” I’m right here.
