Breaking, Healing, and Becoming: The Road Forward

Can I be honest?

I have always been transparent about my life. I’ve shared my struggles, my triumphs, and everything in between. But at some point, people who were never meant to be part of this tribe made me believe that my voice—and my feelings—didn’t matter.

So, I stopped talking.

I silenced myself. I shrunk. I let the fear of judgment take up space where my truth once lived.

And the worst part? I started to believe them.

I told myself that my pain wasn’t significant. That my experiences weren’t worth sharing. That my feelings were too much, too dramatic, too inconvenient.

So, I swallowed it all. I held it in until it became too heavy to carry.

Sitting in the Silence

While I was quiet, life kept happening. And not in the neat, put-together way I would have hoped.

I let myself be bitter and mad until I was sick of feeling sorry for myself.

I was exhausted. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually.

But I kept pushing until my body decided for me.

It started with the pain—small at first, something I could push through. But then it grew.

Two MRIs. Three CT scans. Many ultrasounds. Countless X-rays. Steroid Shots. Physical Therapy. Chiropractor appointments. Neurologist Appointments. Endometriosis surgery. Plantar fasciitis in one leg. My veins literally failing me and refusing to carry blood to my legs. Two surgeries, one procedure for vein disease.

Cramping and aching in my thigh that is so CONSTANT that sticks to me like a tattoo.

And still, I kept moving, telling myself, I’ll be fine. I just need to rest for a bit.

But my body had other plans.

I literally could not take it anymore.

I couldn’t work. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t sit down, stand up, or even rest without pain.

And for the first time, I had no choice but to stop.

I had spent my entire life pushing through—for my kids, for my responsibilities, for everyone but me. But now?

I couldn’t run from myself anymore.

Did I Believe They Owed Me?

I gave everything I had—to my kids, my responsibilities, the things I thought mattered most.

My books.My podcast. The way I dressed and wore my hair. Traveling. Rest. My body. IT was always about squeezing in what I needed after everyone else.

Time after time, I chose their needs over mine. Because that’s what I thought being a mother was. Giving until there was nothing left.

And then, when I was completely empty?

I watched my kids make choices I couldn’t understand. I had to sit back while they made mistakes that hurt—not just them but me.

I started to wonder—did I believe they owed me?

Did I expect that they would always do what I thought was right because I gave them everything? Did I think my sacrifices should protect them from making the choices they were bound to make anyway?

That’s a hard truth to sit with.

But Here’s the Truth.

I am not just what I give to others.

I am not just a mother. I am a tree firmly planted.

Motherhood is only one branch of who I am. I am rooted in God, in trust, in purpose.

And everything I have given to help my children survive—I must also give to myself.

Without guilt. Without hesitation. Without feeling like I am abandoning some sacred duty.

Because before I was a mother, I was a woman. And that woman still exists.

I Am More Than a Mother

I am an educator. I am a friend.

I am a teacher.

I am a leader.

I am a student.

I am an activist (at least in my mind!).

I am a believer in Christ.

I am intelligent, creative, funny, independent, loyal, and resourceful.

And none of these attributes exist only for motherhood.

They enhance who I am as a person.

For too long, I let my identity shrink into just one role. But the truth is, I was never meant to fit into one box.

Motherhood is a part of me, but not all of me.

Giving Back to Myself

So now, I am choosing to pour into myself the same way I poured into my children.

✅ I will give myself grace when I fall short.

✅ I will invest in my joy the way I invested in theirs.

✅ I will nurture my dreams without apology.

✅ I will care for my body without feeling selfish.

✅ I will reclaim my identity—not as someone’s mother, but as someone.

Because the healthier, stronger, and more fulfilled I am, the better I can show up—not just for them but for myself.

Moving Forward, I don’t have all the answers, but I know this—I am committed to becoming the most whole version of myself.

Not perfectly. Not effortlessly. But intentionally.

I don’t have to erase the pain to heal from it. I don’t have to pretend it didn’t happen. I don’t have to bury my truth for someone else’s comfort.

Here is what I will leave you with:

You are more than what you give.

You are more than what you sacrifice .

You are more than just one branch of your life.

And if no one has told you lately—this is not the end of your story.

Let’s talk about it. Please drop a comment below, or let’s continue the conversation in the WhatsApp group.