I Think Something in Me Woke Up

I don’t even really know how to explain this.

Maybe it’s the heat.

California has been so ridiculously hot lately, and maybe my brain is just confused. Maybe there’s something in the air. Maybe I’ve been drinking more water. Maybe I’m finally getting enough sleep. I honestly don’t know.

But I have this weird energy lately.

And not just the kind where I have enough energy to clean the house or get through the day.

I mean… I feel alive.

That sounds so dramatic when I write it down, but it’s true.

I feel like something inside me woke up.

And I don’t know what woke it up.

That’s the part I keep thinking about.

Nothing really happened. There wasn’t one specific thing that made me suddenly feel this way. I just woke up one day and realized that I felt… happy.

And hopeful.

I almost don’t want to say that out loud because I’m scared I’ll jinx it.

But I am.

I’m happy.

At least right now, I am.

And I think I forgot what that felt like.

For a while now, I’ve been in this weird funk. I don’t even know how long I’ve been in it. Maybe months. Maybe longer.

And I hid it really well.

I think that’s what surprises me the most.

I could still laugh. I could still joke around. I could still take care of my boys and get through everything I needed to get through.

Nobody necessarily knew that inside, I felt stuck.

I felt like I was just going through the motions.

Wake up.

Take care of the kids.

Do what needs to be done.

Think about everything I need to do.

Worry about things.

Overthink things.

Go to sleep.

Repeat.

And somewhere in all of that, I kind of disappeared.

For a long time, I felt broken.

I didn’t really know who I was anymore.

I felt like I had let myself go—not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.

And I know I’m not the same person I was before I had kids.

Of course I’m not.

But I’m also not the same person I was when I had my first.

And I’m not the same person I was when I had my second.

Every version of motherhood has changed me in some way.

I just think somewhere along the way, I forgot that I was allowed to change for myself, too.

I became a mom.

A daughter.

A friend.

A person who was constantly trying to hold everything together.

But I stopped being me.

Or maybe I just stopped making room for me.

And maybe I’m finally getting tired of that.

Because something in me is saying, Girl, enough.

Like, seriously.

Enough waiting.

Enough worrying about what everyone else thinks.

Enough wondering if I’m good enough.

Enough needing someone else to make me feel wanted or important or beautiful or worthy.

I don’t want to need that anymore.

I want to be able to look at myself and say, I’m enough.

Even when nobody is telling me that.

And I need to give myself more opportunity to be good.

I keep thinking about that.

Maybe I haven’t given myself enough opportunities to feel good.

Not just look good.

Feel good.

To feel proud of myself.

To feel accomplished.

To feel like I did something for me.

To feel like I’m growing instead of just getting through the day.

I’ve spent so much time waiting.

Waiting for things to happen.

Waiting for life to change.

Waiting for the right opportunity.

Waiting for the right person.

Waiting until I felt ready.

And maybe I’m finally realizing that I could be waiting forever.

Life isn’t going to knock on my door and say, “Okay, here’s the life you wanted.”

I have to actually go after it.

I have to do something.

I have to take chances.

And I think I need to start with small things.

Nothing huge.

Nothing that requires me to completely change my life overnight.

Just little things that bring me back to myself.

So I’ve been thinking about making a little list for myself.

Not resolutions.

Not another list of things I’ll feel guilty about when I don’t accomplish them perfectly.

Just things I want to try.

Things that might make me feel like me again.

Read more books. Less social media.

I spend way too much time scrolling. Sometimes I pick up my phone without even realizing I’m doing it.

I want to read again.

I want to get lost in a book instead of getting lost in everyone else’s lives.

Watch a movie at least once a week.

This one sounds so simple, but I want to make time to sit down and actually watch something.

Not while folding laundry.

Not while scrolling on my phone.

Just watch a movie.

Sunday morning walks with my family.

There’s something about a slow Sunday morning that I love.

I want more of those.

Walking together. Talking. Letting the boys run around. No rushing to get somewhere.

Just being together.

Plan a family activity.

Maybe a movie night.

Maybe the aquarium.

Maybe somewhere we’ve never been.

It doesn’t have to be expensive or elaborate.

I just want us to make memories on purpose.

Go to the gym?

I put the question mark there because… 😂

I’m still negotiating with myself on this one.

But I know I want to move my body more.

I want to feel stronger.

I want to feel comfortable in my own body again.

And maybe going to the gym is part of that.

Write more.

This one feels important.

I’ve always loved writing.

And I think I stopped doing it because life got busy.

But maybe writing is one of the ways I find myself again.

Maybe I need somewhere to put all these thoughts in my head.

Motherhood has a way of consuming you.

And I thought that was just how it was supposed to be.

At some point, it did consume me.

My time.

My energy.

My thoughts.

My priorities.

My entire world.

And I love my boys more than anything. I would never want a life without them.

But I’ve been thinking a lot about how I don’t have to choose between being a good mom and being a person who takes care of herself.

I can do both.

I need to do both.

Because if I want my kids to thrive, I need to be in a good place, too.

I need to take care of myself.

I need to have interests outside of motherhood.

I need to laugh.

I need to have things that excite me.

I need to have something to look forward to.

I need to remember that I am more than just the person who packs lunches, cleans, worries, schedules things, remembers everything, and takes care of everyone.

I’m still me.

And my boys deserve to know that version of me, too.

Summer break is coming to a close.

In just a few days, I’ll be going back to my role as a working mom.

My days are going to get busier.

There will be schedules and work and school and everything else that comes with everyday life.

I know there will be days when I’m exhausted.

There will probably be days when my plans go completely out the window.

And that’s okay.

I’m not trying to become this perfectly balanced person who somehow manages to do everything.

I just want to try.

If I have thirty minutes, maybe I’ll read.

If I have an hour, maybe I’ll go for a walk.

If Sunday morning is the only time we have, maybe we’ll take that walk together.

If I have a free evening, maybe I’ll write.

Maybe sometimes I’ll go to the gym.

Maybe sometimes I’ll just sit on the couch and watch a movie.

And maybe that counts, too.

I don’t want to spend another year waiting for myself to come back.

I think I need to go find her.

Or maybe I need to create a new version of her.

Because I’m not the woman I was before kids.

And I don’t think I’m supposed to be.

I’m not the same person I was when I had my first baby.

I’m not the same person I was when I had my second.

I’ve changed.

I’ve grown.

I’ve struggled.

I’ve lost pieces of myself.

And maybe now I get to find new pieces.

Maybe this energy I’ve been feeling is a reminder that I’m still here.

That there is still so much life in me.

That I can still dream.

I can still want things.

I can still become somebody.

And I don’t need anyone else to validate that for me.

I just need to give myself the opportunity.

The opportunity to feel good.

To do good.

To become good at something.

To fail at something.

To try again.

To take care of myself.

To be a mom.

To be a woman.

To be me.

Maybe I don’t have everything figured out.

Actually, I definitely don’t.

But for once, I don’t feel like I need to.

I just want to see where this new energy takes me.

Maybe it’s the California heat.

Maybe it’s something else.

I don’t really care anymore.

I just know that something in me woke up.

And I don’t want to put her back to sleep.