When Your Child Grows Up and You Have to Rediscover Who You Are

For most of my daughter's life, being her mom has been one of the biggest parts of who I am.

It wasn't just a title.

It was my everyday life.

It was getting her ready.

Taking care of her.

Worrying about her.

Celebrating her accomplishments.

Helping her through difficult moments.

Making decisions.

Giving advice.

Being there when she needed me.

There were years when being a mom consumed so much of my time and energy that I didn't really stop to think about who I was outside of that role.

And maybe that's normal.

When you're raising a child, there is always something that needs to be done.

There is always another responsibility.

Another appointment.

Another school event.

Another problem to solve.

Another milestone to celebrate.

You don't necessarily notice yourself disappearing into the role.

You just become Mom.

Then one day, your child graduates from high school.

And suddenly, things are different.

My Daughter Is Growing Up

My daughter has graduated from high school and is beginning a new chapter of her life.

She has decided to move to Virginia to live with her dad.

I'm proud of her.

I'm excited for her.

I want her to have the opportunity to grow, experience new things, and become the person she wants to be.

But her growing independence also forces me to look at myself.

For years, so much of my attention has been focused on raising her.

Now she doesn't need me in the same way.

She can make more decisions for herself.

She can take care of things I once handled.

She can build a life that doesn't revolve around me.

And as happy as I am for her, I have to admit that it leaves me asking:

What does my life look like now?

Who Am I Without the Constant Responsibility?

That's a strange question for a mother to ask.

Who am I?

I've been so many things throughout my life.

A daughter.

A wife.

A mother.

A soldier.

A friend.

A survivor.

A person trying to figure things out.

A person who has made mistakes.

A person who has started over.

A person who has struggled.

A person who has healed.

But sometimes I wonder how much of myself got buried underneath everything I was responsible for.

There were dreams I put aside.

Interests I didn't pursue.

Things I wanted to learn.

Things I wanted to create.

Parts of myself that got pushed further and further down the priority list.

Not because I didn't care about them.

But because life kept happening.

Motherhood Was Never Supposed to Be My Entire Identity

Being a mother is incredibly important to me.

But I'm beginning to understand that being a mother is something I do.

It isn't everything I am.

That's an important distinction.

I can love my daughter completely without making my entire identity dependent on being needed by her.

I can be proud of being her mom while still having dreams that belong only to me.

I can support her life while building my own.

And I can love the woman she's becoming without forgetting the woman I still have the opportunity to become.

There Is Grief in Rediscovering Yourself

I think people sometimes assume that when your child grows up, you should simply be excited about having more freedom.

And there can absolutely be excitement.

But there can also be grief.

Rediscovering yourself means recognizing how much has changed.

Some parts of your old life aren't coming back.

Your child isn't going to be little again.

You aren't going to get those years back.

The routines are changing.

The responsibilities are changing.

The relationship is changing.

And sometimes you have to grieve what was while making room for what comes next.

I've learned that grief and excitement can exist together.

I can miss what I had and still look forward to what's ahead.

I Don't Want to Spend the Rest of My Life Looking Back

There is nothing wrong with remembering.

I will always have memories of my daughter growing up.

I'll look at pictures.

I'll remember milestones.

I'll probably think about moments and wonder how the years went by so quickly.

But I don't want to become so focused on what I lost that I miss what I still have.

I still have a life to live.

There are still things I want to accomplish.

There are still stories I want to write.

There are still ideas I want to explore.

There are still things I want to learn.

There are still parts of myself I want to understand.

My daughter's childhood may be ending.

But my life isn't.

Maybe This Is My Opportunity to Start Again

I've started over before.

Sometimes because I had no choice.

Sometimes because circumstances forced me to.

Sometimes because I realized something wasn't working anymore.

This time feels different.

This isn't necessarily a starting over because something has fallen apart.

It's a starting over because something has changed.

My daughter is growing up.

And that gives me an opportunity to ask myself what I want the next chapter of my life to look like.

Not what someone else wants.

Not what I'm supposed to want.

Not what I think I should have accomplished by now.

What do I want?

That question is both exciting and intimidating.

I Want to Create Again

One thing I know about myself is that I have a lot I want to express.

Writing has become an important part of that.

There are stories I want to tell.

Experiences I want to share.

Things I've learned that might help someone else feel less alone.

For a long time, I may have thought of those things as something I would get to eventually.

Eventually became tomorrow.

Tomorrow became next year.

But maybe "eventually" is now.

Maybe this is the time to stop waiting for the perfect moment.

Maybe I don't need permission to create something meaningful.

Maybe I just need to begin.

I Want to Discover What Makes Me Happy

It's easy to become so focused on responsibilities that you forget to ask yourself what you actually enjoy.

What makes me laugh?

What makes me curious?

What makes me feel creative?

What makes me feel alive?

What would I do if I didn't have to worry about whether anyone else approved?

Those questions matter.

And I don't necessarily have all the answers yet.

That's okay.

Rediscovering yourself isn't something that happens overnight.

It's a process.

Sometimes you discover yourself by trying something new.

Sometimes you rediscover something you loved years ago.

Sometimes you realize that the person you were has changed—and that's okay too.

I Don't Have to Know Exactly What's Next

I think I've sometimes put pressure on myself to have everything figured out.

I want a plan.

I want to know where I'm going.

I want to know whether something will work.

But life doesn't always provide those answers ahead of time.

Sometimes we figure things out by moving forward.

One decision leads to another.

One opportunity creates another.

One idea turns into something bigger.

I don't have to know exactly where this chapter ends.

I just need to be willing to write it.

My Daughter's Independence Gives Me Permission to Build My Own Life

This is something I never expected to think about.

Her independence doesn't just give her freedom.

It gives me some freedom too.

For years, so much of my focus has naturally been on her.

Now I have an opportunity to spend more time figuring out myself.

That doesn't mean I love her less.

It doesn't mean I'm abandoning my role as her mother.

It means we're both growing.

She is learning how to build her adult life.

And I'm learning how to build the next version of mine.

I Still Want to Be There for Her

Rediscovering myself doesn't mean disappearing from my daughter's life.

I will still worry about her.

I'll still want to know how she's doing.

I'll still want to celebrate her successes.

I'll still want to offer advice when she wants it.

I'll still want to be her mom.

But I don't want our relationship to be built around her needing me for everything.

I want her to be able to call me because she wants to talk to me.

Because she wants to share something.

Because she wants advice.

Because she wants to laugh.

Because she misses me.

There is something beautiful about becoming the kind of parent your adult child can choose to have a relationship with rather than simply needing because they're dependent on you.

I Have to Give Myself Permission to Have Dreams Again

Maybe this is the biggest lesson of all.

It's okay for me to want things.

It's okay to have goals.

It's okay to start something new.

It's okay to make mistakes.

It's okay to discover that something I thought I wanted isn't actually what I want.

It's okay to change my mind.

It's okay to build something just because it matters to me.

For years, I may have measured my success by what I could do for other people.

Now I'm learning to ask what I can do for myself too.

Not selfishly.

Not at the expense of the people I love.

But because my life matters too.

I Don't Want to Define Myself by My Past

I've spent a lot of time looking at my past.

The experiences I've been through.

The mistakes I've made.

The relationships that didn't work.

The difficult chapters.

The times I struggled.

Those experiences shaped me.

But they don't get to decide who I become next.

I don't want to spend the rest of my life being defined by what happened to me.

I want to be defined by what I do with what happened to me.

Maybe I can turn some of the things I've experienced into something meaningful.

Maybe I can use my voice.

Maybe I can write.

Maybe I can help someone else feel understood.

Maybe I can create something that didn't exist before.

Maybe I can show my daughter—and myself—that starting over isn't something to be ashamed of.

I'm Still Becoming

Sometimes I think we forget that becoming ourselves doesn't end at eighteen.

It doesn't end at twenty-five.

It doesn't end at forty.

It doesn't end when our children grow up.

We are always becoming.

There are parts of ourselves we haven't discovered yet.

There are things we haven't tried.

There are lessons we haven't learned.

There are dreams we haven't imagined yet.

I don't know exactly who I'll be five years from now.

But I know I don't want fear to decide for me.

I don't want the past to decide for me.

And I don't want the fact that I'm getting older to convince me that my opportunities are over.

My Daughter Is Starting Her Chapter

My daughter is beginning adulthood.

She is going to Virginia.

She's going to experience things I can't experience for her.

She's going to make choices.

She's going to learn.

She's going to grow.

And while she is writing her story, I get to continue writing mine.

Maybe our chapters won't always happen in the same place.

Maybe our lives won't look the way they did when she was little.

But that doesn't mean our stories stop being connected.

It just means the relationship is changing.

And maybe that's okay.

I'm Learning to Be Proud of Who I Am Becoming

I don't have to have everything figured out.

I don't have to suddenly reinvent my entire life.

I don't have to accomplish everything I've ever dreamed of.

I just have to start paying attention to myself again.

What do I need?

What do I want?

What makes me happy?

What am I afraid of?

What am I willing to try?

What have I been putting off?

What dreams are still waiting for me?

Maybe rediscovering myself begins with asking those questions.

And maybe the answers will come one at a time.

The Next Chapter Is Mine Too

My daughter's graduation has reminded me that time doesn't stop.

She is moving forward.

And so am I.

I will always miss the little girl she was.

I'll always treasure the years when she needed me in ways she doesn't anymore.

But I don't want to spend the rest of my life trying to recreate those years.

I want to honor them.

I want to be grateful for them.

And then I want to turn the page.

Because there is still a woman underneath the mother.

There are still dreams underneath the responsibilities.

There is still a person underneath the pain.

And she deserves to be heard.

She deserves to be known.

She deserves to have dreams.

She deserves to start again.

Maybe my daughter's growing independence isn't taking something away from me.

Maybe it's giving me the opportunity to finally discover some parts of myself that got lost along the way.

I spent years helping my daughter prepare for her future.

Now I get to prepare for mine.

And I don't know exactly what that future will look like.

But for the first time in a long time, I'm not looking at that uncertainty only with fear.

I'm looking at it with possibility.

My daughter is spreading her wings.

And maybe it's time for me to spread mine too.

Her childhood may be a chapter I've finished living, but my story isn't finished.

There are still pages left to write.

There are still dreams left to chase.

There are still lessons left to learn.

There is still life left to live.

And I'm ready to find out who I am beyond the role I've spent so many years putting first.

My past is a chapter, not the whole story.

And this next chapter is mine to write.