The first time I remember feeling content in my life was the first year of my daughter’s life. Up until that point, I was notorious for always wanting more. Nothing was ever enough, even my wins fell overwhelmingly short, and I would constantly bounce around looking for the next best thing.
Then, that tiny human slowed and steadied me.
I remember around my fourth month as a stay at home mom, my therapist asked me if I had finished my book—a project I was working on prior to giving birth. I was flabbergasted. How could I?! I was a mother now. I had a mouth to feed and nursery rhymes to sing. There was no time for the betterment of myself. When you take on the role of a mother it means you sacrifice, or so I assumed.
Turns out, therapists get paid a lot because they have incredible foresight.
It wouldn’t be long …