When You Don’t Know Who You Are Anymore (As a Mother)
There are days when I look at my life and think,
How did I get here?
Not in a dramatic, midlife-crisis way.
More like… quietly confused.
Like I woke up one day and realized I’ve been running on routines and responsibilities for so long that I’m not entirely sure who I am underneath them anymore.
I know what everyone else needs.
I know who needs a ride.
Who needs lunch.
Who needs encouragement.
Who needs reminding.
Who needs a permission slip signed.
I know what time everyone has to be where.
I know how to keep things moving.
What I don’t always know is:
What do I want?
What lights me up anymore?
What am I even working toward?
What would I do if no one needed anything from me for a minute?
Sometimes I’ll catch myself typing something like:
“What should I do with my life?”
into Google at midnight.
And then immediately feel ridiculous.
Because technically, I have a life.
A good one.
A full one.
A responsible one.
So why do I feel… untethered inside it?
The Quiet Way You Lose Yourself
No one tells you that losing yourself usually doesn’t happen in a big, obvious way.
It doesn’t come with an announcement.
It happens slowly.
Between school drop-offs and grocery lists.
Between being needed and being dependable.
Between showing up and holding things together.
You start saying “later” to yourself.
Later I’ll think about that.
Later I’ll figure that out.
Later I’ll focus on me.
And then later turns into years.
And one day you realize you’ve been living almost entirely in response mode.
Responding.
Adjusting.
Adapting.
Managing.
Being useful.
Being needed.
Being reliable.
And somewhere in there, your own voice gets quieter.
Not gone.
Just… harder to hear.
When “I’m Fine” Isn’t the Whole Story
From the outside, most of us look fine.
We’re functioning.
We’re showing up.
We’re doing the things.
So it feels strange to admit:
I feel purposeless sometimes.
I feel disconnected from myself.
I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore.
It feels ungrateful.
Dramatic.
Self-indulgent.
So we don’t say it out loud.
We just carry it.
Quietly.
And wonder if other women secretly feel this way too.
(They do. They just don’t post about it.)
The Version of Me I Miss
Sometimes I think about who I was before everything revolved around logistics.
Before my brain was permanently divided into fifteen tabs.
Before I measured my days mostly by what got done.
She wasn’t better.
She was just… more available to herself.
She had thoughts that weren’t immediately interrupted.
Ideas that weren’t postponed.
Dreams that weren’t filed under “someday.”
I don’t think she’s gone.
I think she’s just been waiting patiently while I’ve been busy surviving.
The Letter That Met Me Here
There’s a letter I wrote called
“My Life Looked Fine — So Why Did I Feel So Bad?”
It’s about that strange place where nothing is technically wrong, but you still feel lost and unsettled inside.
If this reflection feels close to home, that letter tends to meet it gently — without trying to fix it.
What I Actually Know
I don’t have a five-step plan.
I don’t know how to “find yourself again.”
I don’t know how to suddenly feel clear and purposeful and certain.
I still have days where I feel like I’m drifting.
Like I’m doing a lot,
but not always feeling connected to it.
I still Google things like:
“What should I do with my life as a mom?”
“Why do I feel lost in midlife?”
“Why don’t I know who I am anymore?”
So if you’re reading this hoping I’ll explain what it all means…
I can’t.
Because I’m still inside it too.
What I’ve started to notice, though,
is that when I feel disconnected,
it’s usually not because I’m failing at life.
It’s because I’ve been carrying it.
Holding it together.
Keeping things running.
Being the dependable one.
Being the one who doesn’t drop things.
For a long time.
Without much space to ask,
What do I need right now?
Who am I becoming?
I didn’t disappear.
I just got very good at putting myself last.
And sometimes I forget
that I’m allowed to matter too.
So Am I
If you’re wondering who you are now…
So am I.
If you’re trying to remember what used to feel like you…
So am I.
If you’re doing everything you’re supposed to do
and still feeling unsure…
So am I.
I don’t think we’re broken.
We’re tired.
We’re stretched.
We’ve been responsible for a lot of people for a long time.
And we’re quietly trying to find our way back to ourselves.
Together.
No slogans.
No pressure.
No pretending.
Just two women — probably reading this late at night —
wondering what comes next.
And trusting that we’ll figure it out slowly.
Messily.
In our own time.
