Today, I sat at the dining table writing while my son cried in his room.
I don't even know why he was crying anymore. Maybe he was frustrated. Maybe he was tired. Maybe I was too.
I sat there because I needed a moment—a small pause before I let one hard moment turn into a hard day.
Motherhood can feel like that sometimes.
You're plugging on. Holding on. Trying.
Trying to keep everyone fed. Trying to stick to schedules. Trying to manage tantrums and emotions—your child's and your own. Trying not to lose control when it feels like the day already has.
We make plans and routines because we're trying to create some sense of order, but life with children isn't something we can control completely.
Maybe we're not trying to control life.
Maybe we're just trying to make it through the day.
People often say, "You can't pour from an empty cup."
And yet, mothers do it every day.
We pour into our children, our partners, our homes, and our endless lists of things that need to be remembered and done. We schedule appointments, plan meals, wash clothes, clean kitchens, soothe big feelings, and carry the invisible work of holding a family together.
Then somewhere along the way, we're expected to take care of ourselves too.
Sometimes self-care feels like another task on the list—a task we rarely get to.
If I'm honest, I hardly do it.
Most days, I don't get dressed. My hair stays undone. I put myself last because it feels easier than trying to fit one more thing into an already full day.
No one is asking me to disappear, but somewhere between being a good mom and a good wife, I've forgotten how to show up for myself.
And that's the hard truth: no one else can do that for me.
Yes, I have a wonderful husband. But he can't be responsible for my relationship with myself.
Only I can choose to show up for Christina.
Not perfectly. Not all at once.
Just little by little.
Because there's another part of me that's still here—the creative part.
She calls to me every day.
Ideas arrive suddenly and vividly. I feel them like a spark, like a fire ready to come back to life.
But I push them away.
Not because I don't love creating, but because creating feels different now. I compare myself to who I was before motherhood, before my days belonged to someone else too.
I miss that version of me sometimes.
But maybe I'm not meant to go back to her.
Maybe the goal isn't to find the Christina I used to be.
Maybe it's to make space for the Christina I'm becoming.
The creative part of me didn't disappear when I became a mother.
She just needs care too.
Maybe self-care isn't always bubble baths and long mornings alone.
Maybe it's getting dressed.
Maybe it's making the tea.
Maybe it's opening the sketchbook for ten minutes.
Maybe it's sitting at the dining table, writing down the thoughts that feel too heavy to carry alone.
Because at the end of the day, I am still the creator of my story.
And I'm learning that taking care of myself isn't selfish.
It's how I keep creating a life I want to be present for.
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