This is your permission slip to stop trying to resurrect pre-baby you and start getting curious about who you are now.
WHY THIS MATTERS RIGHT NOW
- Burnout and overstimulation are not personal defects; they’re nervous system realities when your mental load is the size of a Costco receipt.
- The changes you’re feeling aren’t just “in your head.” Motherhood rewires your hormones, brain, values, and daily rhythms. That’s matrescence—the motherhood version of puberty. It’s supposed to feel weird. You’re literally becoming someone new.
- And no, you’re not behind. You’re in process.
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WHEN MOTHERHOOD EATS YOUR PERSONALITY (AND SPITS IT INTO A SALAD SPINNER)
One day you know who you are—the girl with city dreams and cute sneakers who might swap into heels at her desk. Then comes the baby. Then postpartum. Then the reality of sleep deprivation, mental load, and a body-brain that does not operate like it used to.
Cut to: You contemplating cows, goats, a garden, and acreage you never thought you’d want. Who is she? She’s you. Evolving. Shifting. Surprising yourself.
Motherhood can feel like you got yeeted into a new universe without a map. So much changes at once—your hormones, your brain, your role, your schedule, your friendships, your body, your autonomy. And your identity? It dissolves and reforms. Not gone. Reformed.
THE DRAGONFLY METAMORPHOSIS (AKA WHY YOU FEEL LIKE A GLITCHY VERSION OF YOURSELF)
People love the butterfly metaphor, but hear me out—a dragonfly starts as a water creature. That’s all it knows. Then it climbs out, sheds the old form, and becomes a winged thing that can never go back to just-water life.
That’s matrescence. Pre-baby life was water. Post-baby life is air. It’s not worse. It’s different. New rules. New strengths. New needs.
And just like the dragonfly, you can’t unknow this transformation. There’s grief. There’s awe. There’s “what the hell is happening?” All normal.
THE MENTAL LOAD: WHY YOU’RE OVERSTIMULATED BEFORE COFFEE
Let’s name it: in many homes, moms carry the emotional labor and the planning labor. Translation: your brain is running 47 tabs, four are frozen, two are playing audio from who-knows-where, and you’re the default IT department.
- Appointments (yours, theirs, the dog’s)
- School things (forms, sports, shoes that fit more than five minutes)
- Birthdays, bake sales, holidays
- Groceries, bills, rides, permission slips
- Modeling behavior, teaching life skills, co-regulating big feelings
No wonder overstimulation hits like a sock full of soap in a military movie. You think you’re fine—and wham. Cue the “Why can’t I get it together?” spiral. You can. You’re just not a robot. Your nervous system is screaming for margin.
If you’ve got ADHD in the mix, the forgetfulness and overstimulation can crank to 11. That’s not a character flaw; it’s capacity reality. Of course you’re tapped out.
KIDS ARE TINY MIRRORS (UGH, BUT ALSO YAY?)
Real talk: our kids reflect our unhealed stuff. Not to shame you—to inform you. Parenting flips on all the lights in the storage closet: triggers, old stories, fear, people-pleasing, the ways we learned to survive. You’re not “crazy” when you feel big emotions. You’re remembering things your body and mind filed away.
This is the miracle no one advertises: you grow up alongside your kids. Not into perfection. Into awareness. The kind where you can say, “Oh, that’s my nervous system in fight/flight/freeze/fawn right now,” instead of “I’m a terrible mom.” You’re not. You’re a mom with a rewiring brain, carrying a family, learning as you go.
YOU’RE NOT LOSING YOURSELF—YOU’RE MEETING YOUR NEXT SELF
Pre-baby you wasn’t wrong. She was right for her season. She got you here. Now she passes the baton. Holding yourself to her standards isn’t just unrealistic—it can be harmful. Your context has changed. Your body changed. Your brain changed. Your values changed. Of course you don’t show up the same way.
You’re allowed to miss her and still not need to be her.
5 PRACTICAL WAYS TO RECLAIM (AND REDEFINE) YOUR IDENTITY AFTER BABY
You don’t need a three-hour morning routine or a spotless house. You need small, compassionate moves. Start here:
1) Lead with curiosity and compassion (toward yourself)
- When you snap, shut down, or spiral, ask: What’s here? What story is running? Which stress style might be online (Fight, Flight, Freeze, or Fawn)?
- Swap shame for data. Journal one page. Name the feeling. Put a hand on your chest. “This is hard. I’m safe. I’m learning.”
2) Make one tiny, values-based choice today
- Identity grows through autonomy. Every time you choose on purpose, you reinforce the kind of woman you’re becoming.
- Micro-choices that count:
- A 10-minute walk while a song you love blasts in your ears
- A bath after bedtime instead of doom-scrolling
- A kitchen dance party with the kids
- Putting one bill on auto-pay
- Saying “Not tonight” to the thing you don’t have capacity for
3) Stop expecting pre-baby you to answer the door
- She’s not supposed to. A new you lives here. Let her set the tone.
- Try this reframe: “Of course I’m different. My brain, body, and life changed. I’m allowed to have new needs and new desires.”
4) Give yourself explicit permission to change
- Out loud: “I’m allowed to be exactly who I am now—and to keep evolving.”
- Test. Try. Pivot. You’re not flaky—you’re iterating. That’s how adults with agency operate.
5) Ask the question that unlocks everything
- Who am I when nobody needs me?
- If the answer is “I don’t know,” that’s not failure. That’s a breadcrumb. Follow it gently. Try one thing that old-you never would have chosen. Notice what feels alive.
WHAT IF EVERYTHING STILL FEELS LIKE TOO MUCH?
- Reduce inputs before you “improve” outputs. Fewer tabs > better multitasking.
- Externalize the mental load:
- A shared family calendar everyone actually uses
- A visible task board (paper is fine)
- A weekly 15-minute huddle with your partner to divide invisible labor
- Build micro-regulation into your day:
- 4-7-8 breathing in the bathroom
- Splash cold water on your face
- Stand barefoot on the grass for two minutes
- Text a safe friend: “No need to fix—just witnessing me is enough.”
THE IDENTITY SHIFT IN PLAIN ENGLISH (MATRESCENCE 101)
- Matrescence is the developmental transition into motherhood—biological, psychological, social, and identity changes that unfold over time.
- It’s not a moment. It’s a season (often multiple seasons).
- Puberty vibes: emotional swings, body changes, brain rewiring, new roles.
- You’re not regressing. You’re reorganizing.
A STORY YOU MIGHT RECOGNIZE
Before kids: “I’m a city girl, 10th-floor walkup, Carrie Bradshaw energy.”
After kids: “I want land. A garden. Maybe cows? Okay, who am I?”
Answer: A woman whose values evolved. Space, slowness, nourishing living things—those are not a personality failure. They’re coordinates for the next chapter of you.
LET’S MAKE THIS PRACTICAL THIS WEEK
- Choose your identity cue: “I’m a present, imperfect, self-respecting mom.”
- Pick today’s tiny action from that identity:
- Present: one device-free meal
- Imperfect: leave the clean laundry unfolded on purpose
- Self-respecting: say “I’ll get back to you” instead of an instant yes
- Bookend your day:
- Morning: two sentences in a journal—What do I need? What do I want?
- Night: one win you’re proud of—small counts
IF YOU’RE FEELING SEEN (AND A LITTLE EXPOSED)
You’re not alone. You’re not failing. You’re transforming—into something magnificent and real. You’re the kind of mom who leads with love, honors her nervous system, and builds a family culture from respect, not perfection.
FAQ: LOSING YOURSELF IN MOTHERHOOD
- What is matrescence?
Matrescence is the process and identity shift of becoming a mother—physical, hormonal, emotional, social, and psychological changes that can feel like a second puberty. It’s normal for it to feel disorienting. - Is it normal to feel lost years after having a baby?
Yes. Matrescence isn’t a three-month window. Identity evolves with each season—new babies, weaning, school transitions, work changes. Feeling “lost” is often a sign you’re ready for your next right-sized step. - How do I talk to my partner about the mental load?
Name it, don’t blame it. Share a written list of invisible labor you carry. Ask for specific ownership (not help) of recurring tasks with clear standards and timelines. Revisit weekly for 10–15 minutes. - How do I know if this is overwhelm or something like depression/anxiety/ADHD?
If your symptoms feel persistent, impairing, or scary, please talk with a licensed professional. Getting support is a power move, not a failure. - What if I don’t even know what I like anymore?
Great place to start. Collect breadcrumbs. Try one new micro-thing each week (song, recipe, route, class, book genre). Keep a “That felt good” list in your phone.
YOUR NEXT STEP
If you’re ready to be the kind of mom who doesn’t need a spotless house to feel safe in her own skin, get my weekly no-BS notes on nervous system care, identity, and simple systems that actually serve your life. And if a friend needs this reminder, text her this post. We’re reclaiming ourselves—soft and fierce—together.
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