I Got Sick of Myself

When I started blogging, my children were two and four years old. My oldest went to part-time preschool from September through May. My youngest was in diapers. My family lived a state away, and my husband was gone eleven hours a day.

My entire existence looked something like this.

I Got Sick of Myself

Pictures taken by children three and under on a Fisher-Price camera.

 I had known for my entire life that I needed to be a mom just as clearly as I knew that I was hungry, thirsty, tired. Whatever instinct is supposed to take root when the double X chromosome wins the race was alive and kicking in me from my Cabbage Patch Kid days until the moment my husband finally said, “Yes. We can try.”

What I did not know was what else I wanted to be. Who else I was. I taught English and studied psychology and directed musicals. But none of those descriptors ever seemed to stick as an identifier.

So when “mom” took hold in February of 2004, everything else about me seemed to disappear.

When I sat down to write my first blog post, I was crying out into the void to figure out who I was and how I had become so completely cut off from the rest of the world.

So when does this happen in a mother’s life? When does a woman get to the point where her former self is so far in the distant past that she hurls at the speed of light towards what feels very much like a man’s mid-life crisis?


I missed this person. I wanted her back. She loved life and did things and went places. And yes, I loved my children and we made crafts and went to the zoo and lived life, but there was some spark of a person that was fading, flickering. She was a person I used to really enjoy. I honestly wondered if she still existed.

I Got Sick of Myself

A funny thing happened once I began writing. I not only found my voice again, that person who was introspective and angry and passionate and funny, but I remembered how much I loved music and travel and art. I remembered how much I loved people and dancing and good food. I remembered that professional achievement used to be on my radar. That alongside of my dream to be a mom had always been my dream to be an author. I remembered to care for myself while caring for others, my marriage became better, my parenting improved. I renewed my faith, I spent time in therapy, I ran a 5k. I built a business, I wrote two books, I joined a band, I helped pay the mortgage again!


Blogging truly changed everything. Everything.

And I wrote about it all.

 And then it all became too much. Overthinking every detail of my life became my very existence and I didn’t want to talk about any of it anymore. The blog posts, the therapy sessions, the people coming up to me and seemingly knowing me intimately while I struggled to remember if we had met. People around me were running around as if on fire, chasing blog statistics, an invitation, a social media goal, trying desperately to keep up with the next big thing, the latest platform or tool.

I didn’t care.

I just didn’t care anymore.

What was the point of finding my lost life – creating a new life – if I couldn’t take time to enjoy it or the people in it? When would I reach enough

Something broke and overthinking, oversharing, expressing every little detail of my life and yay! creating the appropriate pinnable image! became so far off the radar of what brought me joy that I had to walk away.

So for the last year I’ve been slinking around in the corners of blogging, occasionally inspired to share, mostly tossing half-hearted attempts at writing into my drafts folder.

Today I feel like writing again. Yesterday I felt the same. Tomorrow? I have no idea.

But I do know that I don’t ever want to go back to that navel-gazing, selfie-taking, personal brand developing, family missing, exhaustion creating, soul stifling world again.

And worse than losing myself, I don’t ever want to become sick of myself again. 


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  • ellen beck

    Its nice to see you writing , I have always enjoyed reading. You are witty and it is enjoyable to have followed you for so long.
    I have often wondered how you managed. Watching your blog grow and take off, I couldnt imagine how you did it. Confrences, blogging, and then the parties. There were so many parties I wondered if you had more hours in the day than thee average person.
    Its good you took time off, but nice you are back again. The nicest thing is seeing the smiles in those pictures up there!

  • I appreciate you sharing this, and have felt very much the same. I had to take a rather long hiatus of sorts because of life circumstances, so got out of “the game” for more than 2 years (just feeding and watering my site, really). I did social media work for an agency during that time, so kept my toes in it, but had no emotional attachment or personal stake. Life and work and everything else has opened up, and I find myself able to jump back in 100%, but it’s odd how something so familiar also feels so foreign. I don’t know exactly what I want from being online anymore, but I do know it’s different than what I wanted before. Good luck to all of us who are trying to figure that out!

  • ME TOO!

    Except for the writing two books part and the part about writing something today.

    I don’t know how to kick it. I am sick to death of myself.

  • This post resonates with me in so many ways…and like you, motherhood became my life in 2004 (and again in 2006). So much of my life is about taking care of other lives…oy. I need to find ME again. 🙁

  • Amen and amen. I loved my blog. Loved the things it gave me access to. The way it helped build my business. The opportunity to share things that were important to me. Then I hated it. I hated the way the numbers took over. I hated the way I saw other bloggers gaming the system. So, I sold the blog and stopped writing. Slowly, my voice began to return. I started a new blog. I pretty much stay out of the fray. I have nothing to prove. I’m back to having fun. No pressure. I write when I feel like it. And stop when I don’t.

  • You get to share what you choose, make of life what you can each day, do big things and hard things and fun things … and the blogosphere will soak in your sunshiny lovely words and your online friends will hug you tight when they see you again. But yes, first be happy .. but do know your words and your smile have been missed.
    As for the sick of oneself … ha, all these months of doom and gloom have not served my creativity .. trust me.
    Hugs loveliness, huge hugs.

  • I hear ya sister! I can relate on so many levels. My struggle is that I’m still chasing the dream that I’ve had since I was little, which is to write books. And danggit if now it’s not a requirement to have a platform in order to be noticed by publishers. So I’m now sort of forced to balance the blogging with the writing if I have any hope of realizing the dream. Feels like a catch 22. :/

    • Kelli, yes! I want to live my story, not spend all my time preparing to tell my story. It’s frustrating.

  • Wonderful post and so well written. I think many of us fall into this trap; thank you for giving it a voice. I hope to become bloggy friends. Carrie, A Mother’s Shadow

  • […] could tell, after about 10 years of blogging, she was reevaluating her moving forward as a blogger (https://resourcefulmom.wpengine.com/14650/i-got-sick-of-myself/ ) It was an insightful read, and she furthered fueled my desire to hone my focus and stay balanced. […]

  • Such an honest, inspiring, post.