This blog has been my greatest outlet so far. I’m still figuring things out, but slowly, it’s all starting to come together. I kind of feel like I know what I’m doing—at least a little bit. Moving forward, my goal is to find my niche, to discover what truly lights me up, and to expand on the thoughts I’ve pushed to the back of my mind for too long.

For years, my focus has been survival—getting through the day-to-day, managing responsibilities, and keeping everything moving. But in doing that, I stopped allowing myself the space to really think beyond the moment. To dream, to reflect, to create. That’s why I’m here now—to share, to connect, and to let my thoughts breathe again with anyone who wants to listen.

But here’s the thing.

As I navigate the online world, I see so many people presenting themselves as if they have it all together—perfectly curated lives, polished personas. And honestly? That doesn’t sit right with me. It feels icky to put myself out there in a way that suggests I have it all figured out because I don’t. Far from it.

If you decide to follow my blog, you’ll get a real glimpse into who I am. Writing has always been my safe space—it’s where I can express myself without the awkwardness I sometimes feel in conversation. Verbalizing my thoughts can be a challenge, but in the past year, I’ve grown so much in that area, and I’m genuinely proud of myself for it.

Losing Myself & Finding My Way Back

Not long ago, I was in a really lonely place. Motherhood is beautiful, but it also has a way of consuming you, making you forget who you were before. I wasn’t just dealing with the ups and downs of being a new mom—I was losing myself in all of it. Every day sped by so fast, and I felt like I could never catch up.

I had gained over 50 pounds since getting pregnant with my son, and as someone who had always been active, I felt like I was living in a foreign body. Moving didn’t feel the same. Getting off the floor was hard. Just leaving the house made me sweat. It felt gross and embarrassing. And within all of that chaos, I lost myself.

I wasn’t doing anything I loved. I wasn’t talking to anyone outside of my family.

And this lasted for a WHILE.

My body was breaking down from the stress. My immune system was shot, and I spent months sick during flu season. It felt like I couldn’t catch a break.

Then, my dad committed suicide.

My relationship with my dad was… a work in progress. We were just starting to rebuild something, and then, suddenly, it was gone. I’ll write more on that another time, but the grief that followed was nothing like I imagined. It’s been two years this month, and I think I’m still processing it.

After he passed, I had to take a long, hard look at my own mental health. Did I want to keep barely getting by? Did I want to end up bitter, unhappy, and angry at the world? No. I needed to make a change.

I had already been in therapy for a year or so, but for the first time, I seriously considered medication. It was something I had debated for years—something I had hesitated to try every time a doctor suggested it. But I finally said yes.

And saying yes became a theme in my life.

Instead of isolating myself, I started planning playdates. I allowed myself to connect with other moms and found inspiration in the friendships I was building. I learned that friendships—real ones—take effort and vulnerability, things I had never really put into practice before.

Finding My Niche

If you’ve been following me since the beginning of this blog, you might have noticed that I’m starting to find my niche—mental health, self-growth, and personal journeys. And honestly? That doesn’t surprise me.

I was drawn to psychology for so many reasons. One of the biggest being my own experiences with mental health. Therapy has helped me in incredible ways, and I’ve always been fascinated by the way the mind works. I’ve also always been the observer—the “mother” of the group, the one who tries to keep the peace, to help others navigate their own emotions. Seeing a trained professional can help quiet the conflict within yourself, and I’ve always wanted to be that kind of person for others.

But as much as I wanted to pursue psychology as a career, I eventually realized that I absorb people’s emotions too deeply. I take on their struggles as if they’re my own, and it becomes overwhelming. I know now that if I had gone down that path, it might have been too much for my own mental health to handle. As much as I want to help others, I can’t sacrifice my own well-being in the process. And that’s okay.

Instead, I’m learning to trust that I’ll find my way if I stay open to it. Maybe it’s through writing, through sharing my own experiences, through connecting with others in an honest and meaningful way. I don’t have all the answers, but I know I’m on the right path.

I want to keep exploring this world—imperfectly, honestly—and share that journey with you.

I don’t know exactly what that will look like yet.

But that’s the beauty of it.

So here’s to embracing the unknown, one imperfect step at a time.