A Letter to the Mom Who Feels Like She’s Losing Herself

If you’ve found yourself here, I’m guessing it’s because your chest feels tight more often than not… because the weight of it all is leaving you breathless. You love your kids more than anything in this world, yet you also feel completely overwhelmed by the constant demands, the never-ending pivots, and the guilt that sneaks in when you admit—even just to yourself—that this is hard.

Maybe your toddler is scaling the couch with Cheeto fingers while your baby wails in the background, teething and leaking through yet another outfit. Dinner? Probably chicken nuggets again, because that’s what you have the capacity for. Your head is always on a swivel—trying to keep them safe, trying to give them freedom, trying to keep your cool when inside you’re ready to cry, and sometimes you do. Then you see someone on TikTok making motherhood look effortless, and suddenly you’re doubting yourself all over again.

And yet… you keep going. You wipe the tears (yours and theirs), you push through the exhaustion, you find the joy buried under the spit-up, the messes, the scraped knees. You show up every day because you’re their mom—and they need you.

But who’s showing up for you?

You join a playgroup, and when someone asks about you, all you can think to say is: “I’m a mom.” Then silence. Because somewhere along the way, you’ve lost touch with the pieces of yourself outside of motherhood. You love this role more than anything, but you can’t help but feel a quiet grief for the parts of you that feel forgotten.

When I became a mom, I quickly learned how vital it is to have a community—a space where you don’t have to explain yourself, because the other moms just get it. I tried Facebook groups, but so often I was met with judgment, criticism, or comparison. That wasn’t what I needed. And as someone who worked hard for my career, I struggled to find a balance between being “all in” at home and “all in” at work—because no matter what I chose, someone always had an opinion.

This is why I do the work I do now. Because even with a village, there were so many moments when I still felt completely alone. Like I was drowning. Like I was missing out on the joy I had waited my whole life for because of the heaviness that came with it. And I know I’m not the only one.

You can have all the tools in the world and still feel overwhelmed, anxious, or disconnected. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re human. And it means you deserve support, too.

I became a therapist for moms because I want to be that support. I want to sit with you in the hard moments, remind you that you’re not alone, and help you rediscover yourself in the middle of this beautiful, messy, exhausting season of motherhood.

Because motherhood is hard. But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself.