On letting go of who I thought I had to be

I spent a long time wrapped up in my professional self.

Marketing.
Management.
Strategy.
Being useful. Being sharp. Being needed.

When I became a mother, I was sure I’d resent the shift. I thought I’d feel smaller. Less relevant. Like I was giving something up I’d never get back. I avoided it. Avoided the title. Avoided talking about my new role.

It took me six years to realize that isn’t what happened.

I didn’t lose anything.
I just stopped gripping it so tightly.

What I found instead was creativity.
And space.
And a kind of peace I didn’t know how to recognize at first.

I’m still unlearning hustle culture. Still unlearning productivity. Still noticing how often I reach for proof that I’m “doing enough.”

Being present doesn’t come naturally to me.
Rest doesn’t either.
Neither does trusting that my worth isn’t tied to output.

But I’m learning to be in my body.
To notice when I’m tired.
To care for myself without needing a reason.

That took six years.

Six years to undo what I learned about urgency.
About value.
About always needing a next step.

I thought letting go would feel like loss.
Instead, it feels like relief.