Welcome to DarlynDreams.
My name is Chrissy, and I’m a Southern girl, woman rather, in my mid-forties. For years, my whole identity was wrapped up in one word: Mom. It wasn’t just a role; it became the very definition of who I was.
Like many, I dreamed of one day owning my own business and living a life that felt full (not necessarily millionaire-level, although that would be nice), but deeply fulfilling. I wanted to wake up excited about MY life, to keep learning and to help others along the way. What I didn’t realize back then was that I had completely lost sight of the one person I most needed to help: me.
It’s easy, isn’t it? When there’s a child in the house, you sacrifice. You push through. You become a quiet superhero who does whatever it takes to provide, protect and pour into that little life. Your needs move to the background, then to the basement, then eventually vanish altogether. You show up in every storm, every milestone, every mess because there’s no way you’ll let your baby face it alone.
I was a force. A shield. A constant.
But what happens when they leave?
What happens when the nest is empty and your own steps are the loudest sounds in the house?
I didn’t expect the disorientation. I found myself drifting. There were days I could barely feed myself because cooking for one felt strange, almost wrong. The joy of making meals was gone, replaced by a hollow silence. I cried. I felt lost. I kept whispering to myself, “Back when I was your mom, I could handle anything. Back when I was your mom, I knew what to do…”
I could barely stand up for myself. Even the simplest things felt heavy.
Then one day, in the middle of one of those tearful spirals, my son (who’d been out on his own for a while) heard me venting. He gave this soft chuckle, the kind that says, “That’s sad, but also…true.”
And then he said something that changed everything:
“Ma,” he said gently, “you’re still my ma. But now, you’ve got to learn to love YOU the way you’ve always loved me.”
Whew.
That stopped me cold. He was right. I had given him every drop of my love and somewhere in all that giving, I’d forgotten how to care for myself. I had forgotten who Chrissy was… beyond “Mom.”
So now, before I can fully learn to love myself, I have to start by discovering who I even am.
That’s what this blog, DarlynDreams, is for. It’s my space to document the journey—the beautiful, the messy, the healing, the stumbling. And maybe, just maybe, someone out there who feels just as lost will stumble upon it and feel a little less alone.
Have you ever felt like you lost yourself while caring for others? Feel free to comment below.
If my words resonate with you and you’d like to support my writing, you can leave a tip by clicking here. Every little bit helps me keep creating and sharing stories that inspire.
My name is Chrissy, and I’m a Southern girl, woman rather, in my mid-forties. For years, my whole identity was wrapped up in one word: Mom. It wasn’t just a role; it became the very definition of who I was.
Like many, I dreamed of one day owning my own business and living a life that felt full (not necessarily millionaire-level, although that would be nice), but deeply fulfilling. I wanted to wake up excited about MY life, to keep learning and to help others along the way. What I didn’t realize back then was that I had completely lost sight of the one person I most needed to help: me.
It’s easy, isn’t it? When there’s a child in the house, you sacrifice. You push through. You become a quiet superhero who does whatever it takes to provide, protect and pour into that little life. Your needs move to the background, then to the basement, then eventually vanish altogether. You show up in every storm, every milestone, every mess because there’s no way you’ll let your baby face it alone.
I was a force. A shield. A constant.
But what happens when they leave?
What happens when the nest is empty and your own steps are the loudest sounds in the house?
I didn’t expect the disorientation. I found myself drifting. There were days I could barely feed myself because cooking for one felt strange, almost wrong. The joy of making meals was gone, replaced by a hollow silence. I cried. I felt lost. I kept whispering to myself, “Back when I was your mom, I could handle anything. Back when I was your mom, I knew what to do…”
I could barely stand up for myself. Even the simplest things felt heavy.
Then one day, in the middle of one of those tearful spirals, my son (who’d been out on his own for a while) heard me venting. He gave this soft chuckle, the kind that says, “That’s sad, but also…true.”
And then he said something that changed everything:
“Ma,” he said gently, “you’re still my ma. But now, you’ve got to learn to love YOU the way you’ve always loved me.”
Whew.
That stopped me cold. He was right. I had given him every drop of my love and somewhere in all that giving, I’d forgotten how to care for myself. I had forgotten who Chrissy was… beyond “Mom.”
So now, before I can fully learn to love myself, I have to start by discovering who I even am.
That’s what this blog, DarlynDreams, is for. It’s my space to document the journey—the beautiful, the messy, the healing, the stumbling. And maybe, just maybe, someone out there who feels just as lost will stumble upon it and feel a little less alone.
Have you ever felt like you lost yourself while caring for others? Feel free to comment below.
If my words resonate with you and you’d like to support my writing, you can leave a tip by clicking here. Every little bit helps me keep creating and sharing stories that inspire.
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