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Remember when you could play and have fun?

Remember when you could do that?

Remember would you could laugh and play and have fun and get silly?

What happened? Where did that woman go?

I know, she got lost in the middle of diaper changes as she became the “queen of all excrement”. She got peed on and pooped on and thrown up on so many times…perhaps she just drowned in it.

Or maybe it was after the last friend asked for help and you bent over backwards to be there for her…and suddenly found when you needed help, she was nowhere to be found…suddenly, you just became invisible.

Perhaps you got buried under the weight of so many expectations, the numerous trips to the school for meetings or to bring home an unruly or sick child while you juggled your schedule and hoped the boss would be understanding…maybe it you got lost under the immense guilt of parenting when you should be working, working when you should be cleaning, cleaning when you should be sleeping, sleeping when you should be parenting…and round and round it goes.

Maybe it was just the tons of fucking laundry and dishes and the multitude of chores, the cleaning the kids rooms or yelling at the kids to clean their rooms and with all the struggle to get others to help “I’ll just do it myself…it’s easier” became your mantra.

Maybe it was work…you certainly can get lost there…so much drama so many who need advice or need you to behave or look a certain way, so many rules, so many hoops to jump through just to prove your worth, certainly armor is needed there…certainly a degree of toughness shows up and well, it just felt safe to put it on, so you just stepped in.

And somewhere…in the midst of it all…you became HER…and the girl you once were…was lost.

Some days you don’t even recognize yourself, you look in the mirror and wonder where the hell you went. You can’t even imagine asking anyone for help, you’ve got everything under control…you’re fine.

Except…you’re not.

If “fine” is the sun…you are out around Pluto somewhere saying “I’ve got this”

Except…you don’t.

Sure, you have all the pieces of the pie in order…except that one thing…that one thing where you seem to not have control…it’s your little secret, you’re allowed to have secrets, right? Maybe it’s food, maybe it’s money, maybe it’s men…maybe it’s just plain fucking rage. Whatever it is…you keep it to yourself, you get buried under the shame of not really having it as together as you think you do…you secretly rebel…just so you can make it through the weight of wearing that armor.

You feel like if you slow down…the cracks will start to show…maybe you think if you stop taking care of everything…it will all fall apart.

Let it.

You think you can’t, but I’m here to tell you that you can.

Because this isn’t you…this is your armor and it’s time to let that shit go and allow the real you to shine through.

The funny, crazy, tender, loving imperfect flawed you…

It’s time to lay the armor aside so you can breathe and stretch and expand into who you really are.

It’s time to come home…to yourself


If this sounds familiar, I’m here to help. Just drop me a message and let’s get you back to who you REALLY ARE!