Your village starts here
Some days, it feels like there’s just too much. The calendar is full, with appointments, therapies, surgeries, and everyday life piling up. You wonder when you’ll have time to shower, cook a healthy meal, or even cry. For a long time, I didn’t even know what hobbies I enjoyed. Everything felt centered on my daughter, and I lost sight of who I was.
But I’ve learned — and I want you to hear this clearly — you matter just as much as they do. Your well-being is just as important as your child’s.
What Shifted for me
When my daughter was going through one of the darkest points in her life, she tells me, “I just want my mom to smile again.” That cut through everything. I didn’t even know I wasn’t smiling anymore, but as soon as she pointed it out, it hurt me to know that she noticed so much more than I realized. I realized that if I didn’t take care of myself, I couldn’t be fully present for her.
I didn’t feel like I could talk to anyone yet, so I started talking to myself. I asked myself: How would I want to respond if I were my daughter? How can I show myself the love and care I needed? Those conversations guided me in understanding what I truly needed to give myself. Eventually, I reached out to others for support, carefully, thoughtfully, choosing people who could really help, but the first step was learning to listen to myself.
What helped me ground myself
Some things I told myself:
“You don’t have to be okay.”
“You don’t have to be perfect.”
“It’s okay to just be for a minute.”
“How can I tailor this life I have with the struggles I’m facing?”
I gave myself permission to breathe, to sit quietly, to cry, and to notice small moments. Even when my daughter was awake in the middle of the night or rolling around in her bed, I would take a few deep breaths, watch her safely, and center myself. As she got older, I could carve out little blocks of time for myself, reading, writing, or just decompressing with a movie. Many times, these brief moments of solitude would happen while she was trying to eat paper or roll on the floor like a ball, and when I should have been doing laundry, or calling a doctor. I had to learn it was okay to take those moments for myself before doing the next thing. It made the difference I needed.
Loosen Expectations
One of the most important things I learned: there’s no such thing as “normal” or “typical.” No one, doctors, therapists, family members, strangers, knows your child or your life the way you do. Their advice is only helpful if it resonates with you. Otherwise, toss it.
Stop trying to fit yourself or your child into boxes that don’t exist. Stop worrying about “doing it right.” Your life, your child, your care, it all exists on a spectrum, and that’s okay. You are exactly who you need to be, and your child is exactly who they are.
One small step
For me, the small step was noticing the time I had. I realized that even 10–15 minutes of sitting quietly, breathing, or simply noticing where I am and who I am could make a vast difference.
Pay attention to your child’s changes throughout the day.
Notice small moments where you can pause.
Take a breath. Claim your space. Recognize that you are okay, even in chaos.
You Are Not Alone
This post marks the start of a village. A place where you can find strategies, encouragement, and the reminder that you are stronger than you think. This is my way of giving you the hug you’ve been dying to have, because I need that hug too.
You are seen. You are valued. And you are capable of finding moments to breathe, to feel, and to return to yourself, one small step at a time.