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My mental health journey didn’t begin with motherhood — it’s always been something I’ve carried, worked through, and revisited in different forms over the years. But my most transformative season didn’t happen during any of the milestones you’d expect.
It wasn’t when I graduated college, it wasn’t when I got married, it wasn’t even when I became a mom.
That shift didn’t come in pregnancy or the newborn haze. It came after all of that — when the noise died down. When we weren’t moving houses or adjusting to a newborn or redefining my identity as a stay-at-home mom. It came when things were finally quiet.
And in that stillness, I realized I had nothing left to distract me… but myself.
When The Quiet Feels Heavy
I looked around at my life and saw a loving husband, two beautiful boys, a home I had prayed for — and yet I felt completely empty. I was a mom and a wife. But who was I? Internally, something felt hollow.
After I weaned my youngest son around 13 months postpartum, things began to shift in ways I didn’t recognize at first. No one really checks on you at that stage — the baby isn’t new. I had weaned, my cycle returned, and I was no longer on birth control for the first time since I was a teenager.
I’d been on the pill or some form of synthetic hormones for most of my adult life. After my first son, I had an IUD. But after my second, I just couldn’t do it again. What I didn’t expect was that my body had no idea how to manage a natural cycle — because it had never really had one.
And my routines were changing. My sense of steadiness faded. What I thought was tiredness turned into full-blown fatigue. Mental fog became mental shutdown.
Joy disappeared. Focus disappeared. Even brushing my teeth felt like a task too big.
I Felt Like I Was Losing Myself Along The Way
As that season deepened, so did my disconnection from my body. I felt like it was taking everything from me. I couldn’t get the dishes done. I couldn’t enjoy the things I used to love. I couldn’t keep up with my boys — no matter how much coffee I drank. My skin flared with deep, painful acne. I gained weight even though I wasn’t eating much. And the worst part? I felt like I had no energy to care.
It’s truly a miracle that I stayed sober during that time. I don’t say that lightly. If I hadn’t, I honestly don’t think I’d be here today. You can read more about my sobriety journey here.
I especially felt disconnected from my confident self. I withdrew completely.
My relationship with my husband suffered in a way I didn’t fully realize until much later. I became a stranger to him — emotionally flat, physically absent, and so caught up in my own head that I didn’t even recognize how far we had drifted.
To cope, I turned to distraction: screen time. Not in a casual, unwind-at-the-end-of-the-day kind of way — but in an addicted, “I need to escape reality” kind of way.
I was clocking eight hours a day on social media… and still adding TV after the boys went to bed. And I wasn’t using my phone to create content or work on anything meaningful. I was just scrolling. Numbing. Tuning out.
Arguing online gave me something to engage with when I didn’t feel capable of vulnerability in the real world. Anger was easier than grief. I could finally feel confident.
Online, I could be whoever I wanted. I could be the smartest one in the thread. The quick-witted one. The one with something to say.
Because in real life? I felt like the fat, ugly, acne-covered woman who couldn’t keep up with her kids, her house, or herself. Invisible.
An Unexpected Connection
During that period, I formed an online friendship that felt different from the noise I was surrounded by. It wasn’t transactional or performative. It was simply human. I finally felt seen.
We clicked instantly. We started talking about life, motherhood, exhaustion, and the quiet parts no one says out loud. She was kind, grounded, and honest — something I hadn’t realized I was so desperate for.
She wasn’t one of those online personalities trying to recruit me or sell me something. She was just… there. A real connection in the midst of a fake world.
That connection mattered more than I realized at the time. It reminded me what it felt like to be seen.
Starting Small Even When Everything Felt Hard
At one point, I admitted how depleted I felt — how disconnected I was from my body and my daily routines. And I wasn’t asking her for a solution. I was just being honest. She encouraged me to start with small, simple supports… not as a cure or a fix, but just as something that would lower the barrier so I could care for myself even when things felt heavy.
That small encouragement was what I needed. Over the following weeks, I noticed small improvements:
- I wasn’t bloated all the time. My stomach didn’t hurt after meals.
- I wasn’t dragging myself through the day, and my energy started to return.
- My skin was different — calmer, less angry.
The Spark That Changed My Path
I felt like a different person. The fog was lifting.
I felt like my head was above water. And it was then that I realized how badly I was drowning. How disconnected I was from my husband. How chaotic my routines and household had become.
But this time, I had the energy and motivation to do something about it.
A Life Changed — By Me, Not Products
This part is important.
The products didn’t change my life. They didn’t “heal” my postpartum depression. But they gave me the ability to change it for myself. Over time, I found myself able to bake and cook healthy meals again. To clean the house and create a healthy and calming living space. And as more time went on, the more improvement I saw.
It sounds crazy, but just starting with one support gave me the clarity and energy I needed to get myself out of the postpartum season.
Where I Am Now After The Postpartum Season
Now? I’m learning discipline. I’m actually enjoying life — even on the hard days.
And most importantly, I feel like myself again. Not the “old” me, but a completely new one.
This experience is my own. Please read my full disclaimer here.
