Birthday Confession

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. May 9 is my birthday, May 10 is Psychologists' Day, and May 11 is Mother’s Day this year. Today I turn 29, and I’m 29 weeks pregnant, and I’m making a promise to my 30-year-old self: this will be the year I resolve the hardest memories—memories that have clung to me like shackles, clouded my vision, and echoed in my ears. Stories I’ve unearthed over the past ten years through therapy and deep personal work—I’m bringing each one to closure. I’m ready to let go, to heal, and to reconnect with my true self. I’m ready to strip off the labels that have been stuck to me, one by one, and accept my soul as it exists in truth. A version of me free from the webs of the past—for myself, for my little family, and for those I love.

The first time I was going to become a mother, everything was so different. I believed I was born to be a mom. In my eyes, no one could be a better mother to my child than me. I would be the one who loved him the most, who was the strongest, the best for him.

But it didn’t take more than a year for me to fall into a pit. Maybe I wasn’t the right person after all. Maybe my child was unlucky to have a mother like me. Maybe I had behavioral issues, maybe I had psychological problems, maybe I was selfish—maybe I was all those things and more. But always bad things. The more I struggled to get out, the deeper I sank.

The truth is, compared to many examples of motherhood I observed while growing up, I was a better mother. I made better decisions, acted more selflessly. On the surface, I was doing it right. But inside, there was another voice—constantly telling me I wasn’t enough, highlighting my flaws, ignoring everything good in me, insisting I was ruining my child. A voice that completely took over me. Maybe two voices. Maybe three. Maybe four.

Do you know how hard that is to believe? When I look from the outside and ask those around me, there’s no truth to what these voices say. These thoughts are so unfair and so wrong. Yet I felt them so deeply they became my only truth. I’ve been doing this motherhood thing for over five years now, and another baby is on the way. I’ve been working on those voices in my head since the first year. I’ve identified each one and whose voice it really is. And this year, I promise: I will silence every voice that isn’t mine. I will say goodbye to every voice that misrepresents or misunderstands me.

You know I only slept 10 hours in total during the first ten days after my son was born? Ten hours in ten days—because I wanted to be ready for any time he needs me. I wanted to be awake, alert, and present for every possible need. I didn’t need to eat, sleep, or even go to the bathroom. All human needs faded into the background—there was only my baby and his needs. Slowly, I built a routine. I learned that I could still be enough while I slept. I realized I could feed myself and still meet his needs. I learned that even in the shower, I’d hear him and run to him. There were times my world went dark, my life collapsed—but no matter the circumstances, I found I could hold my child up like a flag, high and above everything else.

Dear me: this is your motherhood. Those voices in your head are not the truth—they’re the projections of others’ failures onto you. Let this be my promise to my 30-year-old self: these voices will stay in my 20s. I will not let them accompany me for the rest of my life.

Dear reader, my comrade and companion: if these words sound familiar to you, remember: every part of you that gets triggered is a part that needs healing. Just listen to yourself—hear what your soul is saying.