The Middle Years: Embracing the Unknown and Reclaiming Myself

I’ve been absent from social media for quite a while—intentionally quiet as I’ve processed what this space means to me and what I can offer here. Adding value in this digital world matters deeply to me. I’ve gained so much from the creators I follow—wisdom, encouragement, even just a laugh on a hard day—and I don’t take that lightly. I don’t want to contribute to noise. I want to contribute to connection.

The past few years have been tough—personally and professionally. I left a direct sales business that had shaped so much of my identity. I returned to work outside the home. My marriage hit some painful bumps, and I found myself parenting in a completely new way. My kids needed me less in the hands-on ways, but more emotionally—and I wasn’t always sure I had what they needed. I had to pause. To breathe. To ask hard questions and wait on slow answers.

But in the quiet, something surfaced: a sense of purpose in this middle space. A desire to find myself again—not just the mom, not just the wife or employee—but the woman behind it all. The one I was before kids, now reshaped by life and ready to show up in a different way.

There was a time when I could tell you exactly what the day would look like. Nap schedules, snack times, outings to the park. A Starbucks run—kids buckled in car seats, music playing, and a few golden minutes of peace while sipping my coffee. Playdates were as much for me as they were for the kids—connection, laughter, and a shared understanding of the beautiful chaos.

Those early years were full, but I felt confident. I knew my role, my rhythm. I was steady and secure in my motherhood.

But now, we’ve entered the middle years—a season not as talked about, but just as consuming.

These days, we live in our vehicles. From practices to appointments to after-school commitments, our family calendar is a complex dance. Meals are often eaten from containers between events or fast food on the way home from a late game or practice. The days feel like a blur, but the emotional weight? It's heavier.

This season requires more presence, more listening, and more availability—on their terms. Sometimes it’s a deep car conversation when I least expect it. Other times it’s a late-night heart spill when I’m exhausted. But I show up, even when I’m not sure I’m doing it “right.”

I don’t feel as confident anymore. I find myself hoping—praying—that I’m enough for what they need. That I’m saying the right things, making the right calls, and modeling something good in the uncertainty.

And maybe that’s the point.

This season is teaching me to be humble, to own my mistakes, and to show my kids what it looks like to ask for forgiveness. They’re watching, always. And in my humanity, I hope they see someone real—someone they can trust, even when life feels shaky.

This is where The Reclaimed Mom begins.

Not in perfection, but in presence.
Not in control, but in compassion.
Not in knowing it all, but in learning to grow with them.

These middle years may not come with neatly scheduled nap times or matching toddler outfits, but they come with deep, soul-shaping moments. And I’m learning to reclaim my voice, my heart, and my purpose—right here in the messy middle.