I know what it feels like to lose yourself.

At 40 years old, I found myself wondering Who am I now?
I had spent the last several years deep in motherhood—diapers, feedings, survival mode. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, what I liked, or what made me feel alive.

I remember one New Year’s Eve, my husband asked if I had thought about a resolution or a goal for the year ahead. I just stared at him.
A goal? A resolution? I had nothing. Nada.
The only thing that came to mind was, “Keep these kids alive.”

And that was my reality for a long time. No dreams. No direction. Just day-to-day survival mood.

Showers were a luxury. I was lucky if I took 2 or 3 a week. Getting out of my pajamas? Only if we had to leave the house. Eating a real meal? That felt impossible. I became a master at scarfing down food while standing at the sink or cleaning up after the kids. I cooked dinner during nap time, cleaned with a baby strapped on my back, and poured everything I had into being a “good mom.”

But somewhere around the time my youngest turned three, something shifted.

They became a little more independent—less clingy, less needy—and I had just enough breathing room to hear myself again. That heavy, numb fog started to lift, and I felt… something. I wasn’t sure what it was at the time, but looking back now—I was starting to come back to life.
I didn’t have a baby stuck on my boob anymore, I had moments to myself. I wasn’t always needed every second of the day. And that gave me space to remember me.

But the mom guilt? Whew.
That has been one of the hardest things to let go of.

Even now, with my kids older, it still creeps in sometimes. But I’ve learned—carrying that guilt doesn’t serve me. It doesn’t make me a better mom or wife. In fact, it usually just made me resentful… especially toward my husband.

Speaking of my husband, he’s actually been one of my biggest teachers when it comes to self-care. I’ll never forget the day I was overwhelmed with a fussy baby, and he looked at me and said, “Alright, I’m heading to the gym—I need to work out.”
And just like that, he left.
I was so mad. The rage bubbled up in me, and I cried. It felt so unfair.

But later, after sitting with it, I realized—he knew how to take care of himself. No guilt. No second-guessing. He did what he needed to feel human. And honestly? That was powerful to witness.

It took me some time, but I started giving myself permission to do the same.
To take care of me—without guilt.
And that changed everything.

That’s when the fog really lifted—and something clicked.
I wasn’t meant to just survive this season. I was meant to grow and thrive through it. To rediscover my passions, set meaningful goals, and believe in a version of myself that was vibrant, strong, and full of purpose again.

I began to get unstuck. I started saying yes to myself.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt lit up about life again.

Because here’s the truth: motherhood isn’t the end of your dreams—it’s a powerful beginning.
A new chapter. Another opportunity to live life fully—on your terms.

I believe with my whole heart that we are all meant to win in life.
And I want you to win too!

If you're reading this and thinking, “This is me,”
I want you to know: you're not broken, and you're not alone.
You're just in the middle of a transformation.

And I'm here to walk beside you as you reclaim your joy, your identity, and your life—on your terms.
No shame. No judgment. Just curiosity, compassion, and the belief that it’s never too late to come home to yourself.