I used to wonder what my hobbies were, what I loved doing for me. Then one day, it hit me: My passion project, my constant devotion since my early 20s.. was raising my children.
Through sleepless night, scraped knees, school meetings, and whispered prayers, I showed up. They were my canvas, my legacy, my rhythm. The seasons passed, and I poured myself into motherhood like it was both art and survival.
Now, as they’ve stretched into their own lives, I find myself standing in the quiet, asking Who am I when I’m not needed in the same way? What do I like, when I’m not loving them through a thousand small things?
It’s a beautiful ache. Because in giving so much, I realize now it’s time to return to myself, not to erase who I was, but to remember who I’ve always been beneath the giving.
*Were you raised by someone who had hobbies?
What hobbies, if any, did you have when you raised your child(ren)?
Becoming Whole: My Story of Survival, Motherhood, and Finding Me 