How Did We Get Here? Pt. 3

Part Three: The Self-Care Year

There came a breaking point—one of those moments that shifts everything.

I won’t get into the nitty-gritty details, but it was a snap.

A moment where I looked around and realized something had to change—for the sake of my family, and for myself.

In that split second, I saw the impact of my burnout: on my kids, on my husband, and on me.

And I knew, deep down… I couldn’t keep going like this.

That moment of clarity sparked something new:

a quiet commitment to take care of me.

This was my self-care year.

And I was more determined than ever to feel good about my health—and to feel that I was honoring and preserving the body God gave me.

I knew I couldn’t do it alone.

So I made the appointment.

I sat in my doctor’s office and finally said the things out loud:

• The low self-worth that had followed me since my breastfeeding struggles.

• The anxiety that made me feel like I was constantly on alert.

• The harsh voice in my head that made it nearly impossible to feel beautiful or worthy—even on the good days.

He listened.

He had me complete a screening, which confirmed what he suspected:

high anxiety and moderate depression.

But now—we had a starting point.

We talked about my relationship with my body—the years of trying everything, only to feel stuck and defeated.

And while many of those concerns would be more appropriately addressed with a women’s specialist, he offered hope.

We added medication to support my mental health and discussed a plan to begin reversing what years of accumulated stress had done to my body.

We created an action plan to manage my asthma beyond just carrying a rescue inhaler.

And most importantly—we outlined recurring check-ins to monitor progress and adjust when needed.

I wanted to feel good.

And FINALLY, I felt like I had the support and resources to do something about it.

Instantly—I mean truly, next-day instantly—something shifted.

I had energy again.

I had clarity.

I had focus.

You mean to tell me I wasn’t just having “mom brain” every moment of the day…?!

For the first time in my life, I had the opportunity to truly focus on my physical health.

Not to shrink.

Not to prove anything.

But to feel good.

To feel me.

I started building routines and structure into my life again:

• I adopted a skincare ritual that felt like kindness.

• I started running—because I wanted to. Not because someone told me I should. And it actually brought me joy, peace, and strength.

• I held myself to a cleaning and maintenance plan—not to impress anyone, but to avoid chaotic cluster moments and ensure we had what we needed when we needed it. Everyone seemed more at ease.

• I found ways to turn our house into a home—not just a place we lived, but a place we enjoyed life together.

And in doing so…

I was making me feel a little more like home, too.

But then… winter came.

The sunlight faded. The cold crept in.

And the isolation started to wear on me again.

I felt myself slipping.

And for a moment in time, I feared I was back at square one.

But I’m learning to see those seasons differently now.

Instead of shame, I’m trying to choose reflection.

I’m learning to pause, to evaluate, to ask hard questions.

True growth only happens when we’re willing to work through the pain points, put our egos aside, and ask:

Where can I be softer?

Kinder?

Wiser?

I’m not doing this work just for me—though I matter.

I’m doing it for my husband.

My marriage.

My kids.

My friends.

My family.

And yes—for the little girl inside me who once believed she’d never be worthy of love.

I want to be the best version of myself.

And I’m finally learning to believe…

she’s worth becoming.