I woke up today with frustration already boiling beneath the surface, bracing myself for yet another emotional catastrophe. 

Mornings are when I usually find my focus and do my best work, but today, people were scheduled to arrive to fix one of our broken air conditioners right during my most precious hours of productivity. 

I could already feel the day slipping through my fingers before it had even begun.

But just as frustration threatened to spiral out of control, my eldest daughter woke up and wrapped her little arms around me in a tight hug.

Moments later, my youngest joined in, her embrace just as warm and reassuring. I live for these moments.

Being Present

In that instant, the tension within me began to subside. Their simple, loving gestures reminded me of what truly matters. 

Instead of letting the frustration take over, I caught myself, took a deep breath, and reminded myself to slow down, release my frustrations, and accept that it’s okay if my day doesn’t go as planned.

This brief moment of mindfulness, focusing my attention on the present and observing my thoughts and emotions, is something I’m learning to practice daily. It grounds me on my journey of self-care and self-growth, helping me regain control of my actions.

So I chose to embrace the day’s spontaneity. Just before they arrived, I sat at my desk, noticed my journal I hadn’t opened in a while, and began flipping through the pages.

I stumbled upon an entry from October 28, 2022, the day I wrote down these exact words: 

“I had some realizations about myself, and I’m ready to give CHANGE a try.”

Losing Myself In Motherhood

This journal entry was different from the rest. Most of my entries are from moments of despair, loathing, and misery. 

As I started reading through my old entries, I found myself face-to-face with the raw pain I had poured into my writing. Each word brought back the agony, rage, and suffering that once dominated my days.

My journal has always been a safe space—a confidant that has held my deepest, darkest emotions, especially during those difficult times when motherhood and life felt like too much. 

Writing became my sanctuary, a place where I could release the anger, frustration, and anxiety that threatened to consume me.

Motherhood brought up old wounds I didn’t even realize were still there, triggering me in ways that weren’t helpful. I found myself drifting through life, stuck in fight-or-flight mode, reacting instead of truly living.

I was trapped in the same routine, barely present in my own life. I silently watched my dreams and ambitions fade away as I stepped into motherhood, unaware of how deeply it was affecting me. 

I wondered if I was being selfish for thinking about what I needed when my kids depended on me. On top of that, the reality of motherhood was far from what I had imagined. I felt so vulnerable and alone, as if I was on this journey by myself. 

This journal became my only outlet, a place where I could let out all the negative emotions I carried during those dark moments.

It was the one thing that kept me from losing myself completely.

Yet, in the midst of sorrow, I found a turning point—a single entry that stood out like a beacon of hope. It wasn’t filled with anger or despair. Instead, it was a declaration of intent and a commitment to change. 

I set a goal to turn my life around, find happiness, and step out of the shadow of misery that had loomed over me for so long.

Coming Home to Myself

That moment of clarity marked the moment I truly began to come home to myself. I took a deep, introspective look into my life, peeling back the layers of my past to examine the choices and patterns that had led me astray. 

I faced the painful truths I had avoided for so long—the childhood wounds and painful experiences I needed to face.

I pondered the parts of myself I was afraid to discover—my dark side, my weaknesses, my insecurities, and vulnerabilities.

Confronting these hidden pains was tough and emotional. It was like facing demons I had tried to ignore for years. 

The journey of self-discovery required me to take full responsibility for my own life. I realized that to move forward, I had to stop blaming others for my pain and suffering and take responsibility for my path.

It wasn’t easy, but it was a crucial step toward healing and finding my way again.

Embracing the Journey

I believe life has a way of guiding us back to ourselves in ways we don’t expect. For me, that journey began when I moved to the island.

Surrounded by nature’s peace and calm, I slowly learned to pause and listen.

I began paying attention to the thoughts and feelings I’d spent years pushing aside. Those quiet moments of reflection brought clarity, helped me understand myself better, and reminded me that there was still so much of life I wanted to experience.

Coming home to myself became the anchor that steadied me through the storms of life.

I’m still finding my way. I still have days when I feel uncertain, overwhelmed, or disconnected. But I’ve learned that growth doesn’t mean having everything figured out. Sometimes, it simply means being willing to look inward, make different choices, and take another step toward the person you want to become.

And if there’s one thing I hope other mothers take from my story, it’s this:

You don’t have to lose yourself to love your children well. You can be a devoted mother and still have dreams, interests, ambitions, and a life that feels like your own.

So, if you’ve been feeling disconnected from the woman you were before motherhood, give yourself permission to pause. Ask yourself what brings you joy, what matters to you now, and which parts of yourself you’ve been longing to reconnect with.

And perhaps one of the greatest gifts you can give your children is letting them grow up watching you become yourself.

If you’re not quite sure where to begin, I’ve created something to help you.

My free 15-Minute Identity Reset is a gentle reflection exercise that helps you pause, reconnect with yourself, and remember the woman beyond being a mom.

Because motherhood is a beautiful part of your story, but it doesn’t have to be the whole story.