These days, when I look in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself as a person; all I see is a mother. My face is fuller than I care to be, and my hair is too long to do anything with, so it stays in a braid or tight bun on the top of my head, with strands of frizz stretching out. If I stare too long, I start to point out every imperfection, every flaw, sometimes comparing myself to who I once was, and I can’t help but feel odious toward myself. Often, I’d rather avoid looking in the mirror for this reason.
Since my son was born, I tend to skimp out on self-care in exchange for more time with him, and while I love every minute of being with him. Neglecting myself has always been a self-sabotaging behavior of mine. When I was most affected by seasonal affective disorder, it was my go-to. I’d shower when I absolutely had to and brush my teeth when I knew I’d talk to people. I would be in such a funk that it was easy to ignore the fuzzy feeling that accumulated on my teeth from skipping brushing. I’d let the hair on my body grow to unsightly lengths and refused to lotion my legs, creating the perfect environment for dry, itchy skin. Some days, I’d scratch so much my legs would turn white from the friction of my nails against my skin.
In those days, I spent my days after work sleeping. I never enjoyed seeing my breath interwoven with the winter air or the 3 am darkness that crept in shortly after the sunset. The cold was inviting, and the darkness was unsettling, causing a stir in my spirit that I wasn’t safe outside. The eerie silence confirmed this stirring. With no more life left in the trees or sky to fill the air with the music of leaves rustling or birds chirping, a silence existed in winter
that felt deafening to my former self.
Having a baby changed my entire being. I went from someone entirely unsure about love to a mother head over heels in love in a capacity I never imagined possible. I look at my child, and I am in awe of him and what my body can do. The first three months of postpartum felt like an eternity, and because I had a c-section coming home, it was almost hard for my mind to grasp how I’d become a mother in the first place. The shrieking cries in the middle of the night as we were all transitioning still reminded me that the newborn days were not my favorite. As he cried, he’d reach a pitch that caused the hair on my arms to stand and my eardrums to vibrate. But then, one day, there was a turning point, and we found a groove. The days stopped feeling so long and began to fly by, each one faster than the last.
Now that my child is aware of everything I know, I have to set an excellent example for him. So I must shower and brush my teeth if I want him to do the same. What I’m finding is that my neglect looks different these days. Instead of my usual, I find myself eating and drinking more junk and working out a lot less. And by a lot less, I mean my workouts consist of occasionally walking my dog. Even so, when we go on a sweat-inducing walk, as much as I hate the feeling of sweat seeping through my clothes, my physical and mental feel so good after.
Motherhood requires so much energy that I often forget I’m a person outside of it. I don’t mind all the energy it consumes, but what I am realizing is I still have to find some time to care for myself so I can get to a place where I recognize myself when I look in the mirror.
I used to be so disciplined. It was easy to do whatever I set my mind to, but these days, it no longer comes easy. It takes work and willpower that is often nonexistent. I’m yet to figure out if this is because of my shifting priorities, being perpetually exhausted, or having come with age, but I’d love to find out. Without discipline, I feel like I lack a necessary component that will get me back to a me I recognize in the mirror, a me I feel comfortable with. But I won’t lie, it is so hard! Perhaps it is because I am still breastfeeding, but these days, it is a lot harder to say no to food. The cravings, even way past pregnancy, are more ravenous than ever. It makes me feel weak and inadequate, particularly because it was so easy for me in the past.
This year, I turn 38, and I’m excited for the years to come. But I also know I want to be around for as long as possible for my family, to watch my son grow. Age is such an interesting concept. It blows my mind that I’ve been around long enough for children around me to become adults. As a kid, I always thought adults were lying when you asked them their age, and they’d tell you they forgot. But there comes a time in adulthood when you stop talking about how old you are, and you really do forget.
While most people my age hate sharing their age or the idea of getting older, I welcome it. Aside from a slight age-related crisis I found myself having before turning 25; I’ve since grown to realize that aging is a privilege not granted to everyone. The one thing about aging that I don’t enjoy, however, is the fact that I had my son later in life, so I struggle with feelings of not having enough time with him.
My goal this year is to be a better me in hopes that it will aid me in being around to have that time with my son.
I won’t set any resolutions because those are so easy to break anyway. But I will aim to be my best self, depending on the day, that can look different.
Today, it may be choosing not to drink soda. Tomorrow, it may be to forgo all house chores and use that time to play with my son, which always makes me joyful. The idea is to make the best choice for myself at that moment. I know to be my best self and for peak mental wellness, I need to manage a better diet, workout, and keep community.
For me, diet isn’t just about what I eat but rather anything I consume, whether it be through my mouth, eyes, or ears. As a sensitive soul, I’m limited in the negativity I can take in. Too much consumes me, spiraling me into a depressive stupor that is incredibly difficult to get out of. As much as working out is vital to maintaining physical health, it does wonders for my mental health, which can help offset what I’m consuming in my diet. And lastly, in recent years, I’ve understood the importance of community. The former me thought I thrived alone, but that was a lie planted by the enemy, so I would keep isolated. We weren’t made to do life alone; we are more susceptible easy prey when alone.
Juggling the responsibilities of motherhood, I am reminded that taking care of myself is not just a personal goal but a necessity. The demands of parenthood have shifted my priorities, but as I navigate these changes, I am determined to find a harmonious balance. Now, as I delve into my aspirations, I realize they are not separate from my role as a mother but integral to becoming the best version of myself for both my son and me.
As a mother, I have the next generation in my hands; I don’t have time to neglect myself. It is up to me to ensure that I am ushering my child into a new way, away from the traumas of the past, so that the generations that come from him will experience healing and blessings. Next time I try to put myself last, I must remember that I am helping no one. I need to remember that I am also important, and by prioritizing my self-care, I am also prioritizing my mental health, which, in the end, will make me a better mother. By prioritizing myself, I will be able to confidently look in the mirror again and recognize myself not only for the mother that I am but for the person the woman that I am as well.