Today, I’m opening up. I feel it’s time to give a voice to vulnerability and share something that’s been on my mind for a while. I want to pass it forward, hoping that you, too, will share it with someone who might need to hear this.
It’s about life philosophy, practical tips, and a personal story. It’s about roles, responsibility, and productivity. But mostly, it’s about self.
“I admire you so much for everything you do as a mom—creating content, doing this, doing that, and so on” is something I’ve heard often this year, especially when people ask: How are you? How’s motherhood treating you?
The Quiet Struggle of Juggling It All
My answer is always the same at its core: It’s incredibly beautiful and ridiculously hard. If another mom is asking, I usually add, “But you already know this; you’ve been through it yourself.” What follows is a quick sharing of their own challenges, like a way to justify their admiration, with that little nod and smile that says, “I know exactly what you mean.“
Here’s the truth: I’m always surprised when people say they admire me. Even though it’s something I strive for—not for the cult of personality, but because I believe so deeply in the power of leading by example. It fills my heart to know that I can contribute to the world and people’s lives just by living my truth.
But—here’s where it gets complicated—I’m surprised because… (drumroll please🥁) it feels like I’m doing absolutely nothing.
Yes, you heard me. That admiration? What’s it even for?
Invisible Responsibilities
My first instinct is to tell you about my daily internal battles—battles to acknowledge everything I do for my child and everything I do with my child—the care, the play, the nourishment, the education. It’s all so deeply embedded in my role as a mom, so non-negotiable for me that it becomes invisible. I don’t see it anymore, like breathing. I’m breathing right now as I type this, but do I consciously think about it every second? No.
It’s the same with motherhood—the responsibilities that come with it generate a flurry of actions and activities, but at the end of the day, they often feel insignificant, like they don’t count. Yet, they are significant because they take up the bulk of my time.
Perfectionism Hides in Plain Sight
I read somewhere that this, too, is a form of perfectionism—not feeling like enough as a mom, even though we’re doing so much. Instead of celebrating what I do manage to accomplish, I tend to fixate on what I haven’t yet done.
And did you notice the word yet in that last sentence?
That yet is magic when reframing our thoughts, but it’s taken me years to train myself to use it.
Here’s the second, more balanced thought: These high standards I have for myself—this drive to do it all, just like in that famous Oprah meme—keep me from enjoying life. They stop me from being present in the moment.
And that’s the kicker. I’m robbing myself of the joy and the satisfaction I deserve.
What Really Matters in the End
I recently finished reading a novel, a beautifully written, deeply emotional story. It moved me to tears, and I don’t usually cry over books. Movies, sure, but not books. Maybe it’s because I haven’t read many novels in the past decade—too many practical books, too much work-related reading.
Without giving away spoilers, there’s a moment in the story that reminded me how fragile life is. We don’t know what’s coming, we don’t know how our lives might change. We don’t even know how long we have here.
I thought about those people on their deathbeds. And I thought about myself in that same position one day.
Will I care about how clean my house was? How perfect was that program I created? How flawlessly crafted was my workbook? How many people benefitted from my self-exploration tools? Will I care if they came at the expense of time with my child?
Probably not.
Why It’s Beautiful, Even When It’s Hard
Recently, I’ve had conversations with friends about dreams and plans, about how I juggle it all with motherhood. They, too, are mothers, and they know from their own experience just how important it is to carve out time for yourself.
We’ve talked about self-care in all its dimensions—physical, mental, and spiritual—and how vital it is to have projects for yourself. But we also talked about the emotional cost that comes with it.
More often than not, it’s guilt—the infamous mom guilt—and its inseparable companion, shame. Thanks to years of self-work, I don’t see much of those two anymore.
But anxiety, overwhelm, and frustration? Oh, we’re still very much on speaking terms.
These feelings? They come from my fears, beliefs about life, how I think I should be, and how I wish the world were. They stem from my convictions—from me.
And that’s the beautiful part.
Before you rush to call me crazy, hear me out.
As long as we understand that everything, absolutely everything, begins with us, life gets easier. And better.
Because the only thing we can ever truly change is ourselves.
Not our parents, not our childhood, not our neighbours, not our boss, not the world around us.
These things? They’re the backdrop. They help us understand our context, but that’s it.
Otherwise, we’re playing the victim, giving away our power.
And that, my friend, is not fair. It’s like we’ve built ourselves a wall and locked away the freedom that comes from owning our power.
You might say, “Monica, that’s all well and good, but life happens. Changing myself isn’t going to stop the economy from tanking, lower my rent, or make my boss any nicer. And when am I supposed to find time for all this self-awareness while running around trying to keep everything together?”
That’s exactly why, when we run away from knowing and accepting ourselves, we end up in a never-ending race, constantly seeking external validation and trying to prove ourselves. We do everything to the superlative—overthinking, overdoing, and overscheduling.
Until, one day, we break.
Our bodies give in.
I’ll stop here with that scenario because I have something else to share.
Before we go any further, let me leave you with this question: What are you running from?
Now, back to what I tell my friends. Usually, it’s something like, “In the grand scheme of things, I’m okay.”
And why wouldn’t I be?
I’m living the life I’ve always wanted. Every decision I’ve made has brought me here to this moment. I’m watching my child grow, raised by me, just as I dreamed. I’m slowly building a consulting business focused on metacognitive strategies and self-exploration tools on a pay-what-you-can model because financial situations shouldn’t limit access to self-knowledge.
I’m doing all of this at a slower, more mindful pace—a pace I’ve dreamed of my entire life but wasn’t ready to transition into until now.
And yet, why do I still have fears?
Because it’s NORMAL.
What’s not normal is this illusion that we can reach a state of zero fears and zero challenges—that elusive this time, it’ll be perfect, and then everything will be fine—as if there’s some finish line that will save us, ignoring that every ending is a new beginning.
And to embrace the joy of beginnings, we must know how to let endings go.
How I Make It All Work
So here’s my closing thought on how I do everything I do and what this has to do with self-awareness.
It’s simple and mathematical: I can do it all because I organize myself, and I organize myself because I know myself.
I set goals, make them realistic for my situation, break them down into tiny pieces, and then look at the time I have available—weekends, late nights, naptime. I divide those hours between self-care, my relationship, relaxation, socializing, etc.
I find that I’m most productive in 25-30 minute blocks. I schedule those small tasks into those blocks, ensuring they’re doable in my time.
It’s easy, right? The hard part is accepting that many of my projects will take much longer to finish.
I’ve also learned that doing everything I want is impossible without support systems. Help is sacred, and sometimes, it comes in the form of good services and tools.
Freedom in Flexibility
In the end, I’ve let go of the rigidity with which I once viewed organization. I no longer block out fixed time slots on my calendar. Instead, I add all-day events, giving myself the flexibility I need.
I’ve learned that planning and structure don’t have to trap me. They can free me.
And I couldn’t finish this article without sharing some reflecting questions to facilitate the self-reconnection.
10 Reflective Questions to Help You Reconnect with Yourself
- Have you ever felt that what you do goes unnoticed—even by yourself?
- When did you last pause to recognize the effort you put into your daily roles?
- How do you respond to admiration or compliments? Does it surprise you, too?
- What invisible responsibilities do you carry? How might your day change if you saw them more clearly?
- What’s one thing you accomplished today that you can acknowledge, even if it feels small?
- Are your standards allowing you to enjoy the present, or are they holding you back?
- If today was your last, what would you want to remember most?
- What do you prioritize now that truly matters? How does it align with how you want to live?
- What part of yourself have you been avoiding or running from?
- How would you approach life if you accepted fear as a normal part of growth?
Thank you for reading.
Thank you for receiving what I’ve shared.
And thank you if you choose to pass it on.
