“The Storm, the Silence, and the Return”

The Storm I’m Standing In

I’m in the middle of a storm of emotions.

Not one caused by others, but one within me. A quiet chaos, stirred by memories, dreams, and the life I once planned for myself.

"You don't have to be okay right now. Let yourself cry. Let yourself sit with the confusion, anger, sadness, or fear. Emotions are not enemies-- they're messages. You don't have to solve them immediately. Just let them speak.

I feel like I've been ghosting myself.

Sometimes it feels like I’ve been ghosting myself—not because I wanted to, but because life took me in a different direction.

"Life gets messy. Priorities shift. You made decisions from love, duty, and survival. That's not failure--that's being human."

At a young age, I became a mother, and everything shifted.

The dreams I once held, the plans I carefully imagined—they didn’t vanish. They just got rearranged. They just got pushed to the side. And I told myself, I'll come back to them.

But I never did.

It's not too late. It might be slow. It might be uncomfortable. But I still have time to return.

Instead, I embraced being a wife, I became someone’s mother, and in that moment, I chose love. I chose responsibility. And I have never regretted it.

"Everything Starts with Our Love for Each Other."

Because I married the man I love.
The man who stood beside me as I became a wife, a mother, and a provider of care and strength. Then, our second child came into this world, and my heart stretched wider than I ever thought possible, with more responsibility, more reasons to keep giving.

But somewhere in the middle of this beautiful, full life…

I lost the woman I used to be.
Not because I stopped loving her.
But because I got so caught up in loving everyone else.
I embraced being a wife. I embraced motherhood. And in doing so, I forgot to go back and pick up the parts of me I left behind—the dreamer, the planner, the girl who had her own story to write.

Now I sit with this ache. The ache. The quiet tug from within.
Not regret. Never regret--my children are my greatest blessings that God has given to me.
But a longing—a whisper reminding me that I once had dreams, too.

This isn't a complaint. It's a quiet grief. And maybe also a soft hope--that it's not too late. That the girl I used to be still lives in me.
And maybe now… maybe I can start making space to remember her.
To return to her.
To be both: the woman I am for them and the woman I once was for me.

But maybe... maybe it's not too late. Maybe she's still here, watching patiently, waiting for me to remember. Maybe this storm of emotion I'm in isn't the end--it's the beginning.

Because I believe I can still find my way.
Even in the storm.

A Gentle Reminder:

To Myself:

...

You haven’t failed. You’ve just paused.
You didn’t lose your dream—it’s still there, waiting patiently for you.
You are still allowed to dream again.
You are still allowed to start over, to rewrite your path, to be both a nurturing mother and a fulfilled woman.
You don’t need to choose one or the other.
You can carry both in your heart.
You can love your family with your whole soul and still come back to the version of you that dreamed for herself.
Give yourself grace.
Give yourself permission.
Give yourself time.

⸻

To Anyone Reading This Who Feels the Same

...

If you’ve been ghosting yourself, too—if you’ve left dreams behind in the name of survival, love, or sacrifice—I see you.
You’re not alone. And you’re not broken.
You were doing what you had to do, and what you chose to do, for the people you love. That is a strength. That is power. That is beautiful.
But don’t forget:
You still matter.
Your dreams still matter.
Your becoming isn’t over just because your story changed course.
Start small. Start gently. But start.
You deserve to come back home to yourself.
⸻

A Letter to My Family

To my husband and to my children,

Thank you for being the reason I kept going, even when I felt like I was losing myself.

You are the greatest gifts I’ve ever received.
You are the love I prayed for, the joy I never knew I needed, and the light in the darkest moments.

Everything I’ve done, every sacrifice I made, every part of myself I set aside—I did it from a place of deep love for you.

But I need to be honest with you now:
In becoming everything for you, I forgot how to be something for me.

That’s no one’s fault. It just happened slowly, quietly.
And now I feel the ache of everything I once dreamed of… still waiting inside me.

So I’m making a promise—not just to myself, but to you:
I’m coming back.

Not instead of loving you.
But because I love you.
Because I want to be the kind of woman you can look up to—not just for how well I gave, but for how bravely I lived.

I want you to see a mother, a wife, and a woman who still believes in herself.
I want you to feel my happiness, not just my service.
I want to show you what it looks like to return to yourself with grace.

Thank you for being patient with me while I find my way.
And thank you for being my reason, and now, my inspiration.

With all my heart,
Mamei