There are days I look in the mirror and wonder where I’ve gone.
Not in the dramatic way. Not sobbing in the bathroom or struggling to get out of bed. Just a quiet… dullness. It's crept in, like a soft blur at the edges of myself. Like a photo that used to be sharp, and now the light’s changed.
There’s so much joy in motherhood, and so much invisible sacrifice. No one tells you how often you’ll pour yourself out without even realising it. Not just the sleepless nights or the laundry or the constant lists, but the way you’ll start saying “we” instead of “I”. The way you’ll stop finishing sentences, or stop starting them altogether.
I used to feel glowy. Magnetic even? Mainly like a woman becoming something.
And I still am. But I forget.
Lately, I’ve been finding her again in tiny moments. Lighting a candle before dinner. Putting on perfume even when I’m not going anywhere. Moving my body. Saying no to things that drain me. Creating something with my hands at work.
Sometimes it’s in the way my daughters look at me when I wear a dress I love; like I’m not just Mum. Like there might be magic in the act of wearing something you love. And maybe there is. Maybe remembering yourself is one of the most radical things a mother can do.
So if you’ve been feeling like you’re disappearing, I want to remind you, as well as myself: you’re still here. You’re still you. You don’t need to fight to get yourself back. Just make space, for you to slip quietly in.
Claire x
In this month's Letter From The Heart, I write about the girl I used to be, and what I’d tell her now.
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