Identity Shifts for Working Moms
There are moments in life that break you open quietly. Not in dramatic, movie-scene fashion, but in slow-burning ways: the baby who won’t sleep, the MRI that confirmed what you feared, the late-night call about a parent’s fall.
You adapt. You stretch. You cope. But somewhere in that process, you might lose touch with the person you used to be, and wonder who in the world you are now.
Motherhood, career transitions, chronic illness, and caregiving are profound roles. But they often go unspoken in their emotional cost. Not because people don’t care, but because we’re so used to being the ones who hold it all.
When you become the person everyone relies on, it’s easy to forget that you still have needs, dreams, and limits. The mental load grows heavy. The physical fatigue becomes chronic. The internal dialogue grows quieter, or more critical.
You may find yourself grieving silently—not just the past version of you, but also the future you imagined. You’re not making this up. This is identity shift. And it matters. These shifts can look like subtle changes: no longer recognizing your favorite music, not remembering the last time you did something purely for joy, or feeling disconnected from your own body and intuition.
And yet, they are deeply consequential. They can erode your confidence and cloud your decision-making. They may even cause a sense of isolation—because when you're so busy caring for others, it can feel like no one is truly caring for you.
Sometimes, it’s not even about the number of things on your plate, but the weight of what they mean. You’re not just managing logistics—you’re carrying emotions, memories, and hopes for other people’s futures, all while quietly wondering if yours is slipping away.
Why it’s so hard to name: Because culture often glorifies sacrifice—especially maternal, emotional, and professional sacrifice. You might hear, “You’re doing such a great job,” when inside you’re thinking, I don’t know who I am anymore.
And here’s the hardest part: these shifts can happen even when nothing appears to be going “wrong.” You can love your children, be grateful for your work, feel honored to care for a parent—and still miss yourself.
Takeaways:
It’s okay to grieve what was, and still love what is.
You are allowed to evolve, even if others don’t understand it.
Five minutes of focusing on yourself is not selfish. It’s essential.
Your story still matters. Especially to you.
You don’t have to earn rest, validation, or joy. You’re already worthy of it.
You are allowed to reintroduce yourself to the world—and to yourself—at any time.
If this resonates, know this: you are not alone. I've been there, and often still find myself there, pondering who it is that I am, and who I am becoming. And also, honoring the core of who I've always been.
You don’t have to stay stuck in a version of life that leaves you depleted. You are still here. You are not lost. And you are worth rediscovering.
Have a listen to my podcast "Vibrant Humans" for more conversations like this one.
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4FRMn2KQCc09oaicWsEe7m,
Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/vibrant-humans/id1689343935
Learn about ways to work with me here: https://www.vibranthumanssarahwittry.com/
