Tag: growing

  • The Things I Once Prayed For (And Sometimes Forget to See)

    There’s something sacred about looking around your life and realizing you’re living inside answered prayers.

    The home.

    The kids.

    The health.

    The steady love.

    The moments of peace you once thought you’d never feel.

    And yet… lately, I’ve been struggling. Not in a way that screams for help, but in that quiet, heavy way that makes you forget how far you’ve come.

    It’s not that I’m ungrateful — I am. I know how hard my husband has worked for this life. I know how much has changed. But mentally and emotionally, I’ve been going through a storm. There are days I feel lost in my own head, like I’m constantly searching for where I belong and if what I bring to the table is even seen.

    Motherhood is hard.

    Marriage is hard.

    Being a working mom is hard.

    Being a stay-at-home mom is hard.

    Trying to show up for everyone while figuring out who you are is hard.

    Lately, I’ve been diving deep into the Let Them theory by Mel Robbins — the idea that when you finally get through something big, your mind and body kind of crash. You let your guard down. You fall apart after the breakthrough.

    That hit me. Because that’s exactly where I’ve been.

    After years of pushing through survival mode, after getting sober, after building this beautiful life — I’m now sitting in the emotional release. And it’s confusing. Because why would I feel down when everything looks so good?

    But I get it now.

    It’s a letdown. A pause. A chance to process.

    Sobriety, too, has stripped away all the numbing I used to rely on. No more hiding behind a glass of wine. No more muting the shame or the self-doubt. I’m feeling everything now — and that’s powerful, but it’s also hard.

    The tears I used to cry.

    The prayers I used to whisper.

    They built the foundation of this life I’m standing in.

    I’m still healing.

    I’m still learning to love myself — especially the parts of me that I used to hide.

    And I’m still figuring out how to be proud of where I’ve been because it’s what made me the wife, mother, and hard-working woman I am today.

    Today I was listening to a podcast with Mel Robbins and Jay Shetty, and one thing really stood out:

    It’s okay to notice things in others — even to feel judgment or jealousy — but don’t let it harden you. Let it inspire you.

    That’s been a huge shift for me.

    Instead of letting someone else’s success make me feel “less than,” I’m learning to say: “If it’s possible for them, maybe it’s possible for me, too.”

    So here’s your reminder — and mine:

    You are allowed to be overwhelmed and still be grateful.

    You are allowed to grieve your past while celebrating your growth.

    You are allowed to feel it all.

    And you are never alone in that.

    The life you’re living now?

    You once prayed for it.

    Don’t forget to see it.

  • Life Without Alcohol… And Meeting Myself for the First Time

    Sobriety didn’t just take away the wine — it peeled back layers I didn’t even know existed.

    Truth is… I don’t think I ever really knew who I was.
    I had to grow up fast. I faced loss and trauma way before I even understood what healing meant. I never learned what self-love was supposed to feel like — and honestly, I still struggle with it.

    For years, I chased attention from the wrong places, thinking maybe if someone noticed me, maybe if I felt needed, I’d feel whole.
    But no one has ever made me feel more seen, more wanted, or more loved than my husband and my children. They gave me what I didn’t even know I was craving — purpose.

    And yet…
    I’m left wondering — who am I outside of being a wife and a mom?

    I have big feelings. Big dreams. Little pieces of ideas and visions for what I want to do with this one life. But they swirl around in circles — creative highs and deep valleys of uncertainty. I feel stuck, sad, and sometimes even lost.

    Because for so long, I poured from an empty cup.
    I never took time to put myself — my healing, my passions, my dreams — first.
    Instead, I poured alcohol into the emptiness. Numbed it. Drowned it.
    But all it did was leave me more confused, more disconnected from the woman I was meant to be.

    Now I’m here — sober, awake, raw — standing in the mirror trying to meet myself for the first time.
    It’s hard. It’s emotional. But it’s real. And it’s honest.
    And maybe that’s where rediscovery begins…
    Not with answers, but with the courage to finally ask the right questions.

    If you’re in this place too — you’re not alone.
    We’re all just trying to find our way home to ourselves.

    …But healing is not a straight line.

    There are days I apply for the job I think I want — only to pull back, questioning everything the moment I hit “submit.”
    There are moments I reach out to cosmetology schools, wondering if finally finishing something I once started will help me feel accomplished, seen… proud of myself.
    Some days, I even drive an hour away to meet with an advisor to talk through classes for the next semester — only to talk myself out of it on the way home, doubts filling the space where dreams used to live.

    Then there are days I remind myself:
    Being home is safe.
    Working on me is safe.
    Being a wife, mom, chef, taxi driver, dog walker, caretaker — this is safe.
    Creating a home that feels warm, comforting, and filled with love — that’s a beautiful purpose.
    Studying food, learning how to nourish my family, figuring out what’s best for each of them — that’s sacred work, too.

    But still…
    Some days hit me hard.
    I feel confused.
    I feel sad.
    I feel angry — not at anyone else, but at the version of me who, for as long as I can remember, let dreams slip through her fingers.
    At the girl who walked away from goals and passions because someone else made her believe she wasn’t good enough… wasn’t capable… wasn’t worthy of more.

    And now, the only difference is — I feel all of this sober.
    No drink to numb it. No buzz to blur the ache.
    Just me, raw and aware, sitting with emotions I used to drown.

    And while that’s one of the hardest parts of this journey…
    It’s also the most honest, most healing, most transformative part.
    Because even though I’m still figuring it all out… at least now, I’m doing it awake.
    I’m finally choosing to feel — to explore — to unearth every part of me I used to silence.

    Maybe that’s where the magic begins — not in having it all figured out, but in finally choosing to show up for yourself, even when it’s messy… even when it’s scary… even when you feel lost.

    I don’t have all the answers.
    But I’m learning to trust the process.
    And maybe, just maybe — that’s enough for today.