I felt completely disconnected from myself, like a ghost in my own life. Behind the smile was a quiet storm of self-doubt, self-criticism, and the constant fear of being judged.
I had everything I was supposed to want. Yet inside, I felt empty.
Like many midlife moms, I was burned out from constantly pleasing others, trying to keep it all together. I had ignored my own needs for so long that I had forgotten what they were.
I stayed where it felt "safe":
Where comfort looked like numbing.
Where being paralyzed by fear felt easier than change.
Where I kept shrinking so no one would see how lost I was.
Even in motherhood, I felt invisible. Like I was slowly fading from myself.
I remember one evening, I brought a book to the dinner table. I didn’t even like reading. But I was desperate for someone to see me. To ask if I was okay.
No one did. And the truth?
I didn’t recognize myself either.
Then one day, I caught my own eyes in the mirror.
And something cracked open.
I had been gone for so long, I barely knew the woman staring back. She looked distant. Dimmed. Hollowed out by years of not listening to herself.
That moment broke me… I was at the lowest point in my life.
Then I heard a whisper. My own voice - the one I’d silenced for years.
“You’re better than this.”
It wasn’t a roar. It was a whisper. But it was mine.
That quiet voice marked the very first moment of reconnection.
For the first time in years, I felt truly seen...by me.
And that was the beginning of my journey home.
I cried. Not because I was weak, but because I was finally ready to feel. Ready to live from truth instead of fear.
My first step? I gave up afternoon coffee. It was small, but it was mine: a quiet act of self-respect.
From there, I took one baby step at a time.
Even when the tsunami of divorce came. Even when I was terrified.
I stayed standing.
Eventually, I even faced the ocean. (Yes, the literal one.) I'd nearly drowned twice before. I knew if I could overcome this fear, I could do anything in my life.