Turns Out, I’m Still in Here. I Just Needed a Damn Minute.

Being alone on vacation taught me something I didn’t realize I needed to remember:

I’m still funny. I’m still goofy. I still like making people laugh, meeting people, and being in the moment.

Apparently, that version of me didn’t disappear when I became a mom.

She’s just been busy keeping everyone alive!

And remembering where everything is. And working. And thinking about the next thing before the current thing is even finished.

You know. A casual workload.

The daily grind is a freaking blender.

When you’re in it every day, there isn’t always room to ask yourself how you’re doing.

You’re moving from one need to the next. Kids. Work. Family. House. Someone needs something, and somehow you’re the person who knows what it is, where it is, and when it needs to happen.

Some days, it feels like being stuck in a blender and trying to climb out while it’s still running.

Stepping away gave me a chance to look at my life from the outside.

And my first thought wasn’t, “Wow, I need to get my shit together.”

It was, “Oh. Of course I feel overwhelmed sometimes. A LOT is happening.”

That perspective gave me some compassion for myself.

I can love my life and still admit that managing it takes a lot out of me. I can love my family and still need time when nobody is asking me a question.

Both are allowed.

I remembered what I’m like when I have a little room.

I noticed how much I still enjoy connecting with people. Making jokes. Being thoughtful. Holding a door open. Paying attention to nature and animals instead of rushing past everything.

Those parts of me are still there.

They just don’t always get much airtime when I’m managing the daily chaos.

And honestly? Being kind and generous to other people looks different when so much of your energy is already going toward your family.

Keeping little humans safe and loved is a pretty significant act of care. We can give ourselves some credit for that.

I don’t need to turn reconnecting with myself into another assignment. I don’t need to demand that every part of the “old me” return immediately.

But I do want to make room for the parts I miss.

I also saw how strong I’ve become.

With a little distance, I could see how much I carry. How often I adjust, figure things out, and keep going—even when I’m tired or unsure.

I’ve become resilient in ways I probably don’t stop to acknowledge.

But I’m learning that strength can look like changing something, too.

Asking for help. Setting a boundary. Taking a break before I’m completely depleted. Saying, “This is how we’ve been doing it, but it’s wearing me out. We need another way.”

Those choices take courage.

I’m proud that I can handle a lot. I also want to use that strength to make my life feel better.

I don’t want to wait until I’m overwhelmed again.

It’s easy to put time for myself at the bottom of the list, especially when everything else feels urgent.

But the moments when I think, “I cannot possibly take a break right now,” are often the moments when I need one most.

A vacation gave me perspective. Now the question is how to make room for myself in my actual life—the one with the kids, the work, and all the moving pieces.

Maybe that means a walk alone. Breakfast without multitasking. Asking someone else to take over and letting them. A little time to think before I’m too exhausted to finish a thought.

Small things count.

I’m going back to the same life, but with a clearer understanding of what matters, what’s draining me, and what I can change.

I’m still silly. Still thoughtful. Still sensitive. Still someone who wants to have fun.

And I’m stronger than I’ve been giving myself credit for.

I’d like to give that woman a little more room.

She seems pretty freaking great. 🤍

A little something to journal about: What part of yourself have you missed lately—and what would give her a little room this week?

Much love,
Monica
In Her Boss

In Her Boss

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