Why did I stop doing what I love? 

What do I love? That’s been the big thing I’ve been wondering lately. It’s causing me all sorts of stress and honestly I’m trying to figure it out. 

I’m a reader. Like at least once a week I want to finish a book, but for the last ten years— I can count the number of books I’ve read on my hands.  

That’s sad. Because I love reading. So much. There’s just something about escaping into someone else’s mind that brings me all sorts of joy and happiness. 

Yeah, I know how crazy pants that sounds. I’m sorry friends. I love you please don’t stop hanging out with me. 

What are things I love? I love reading and I love meeting new people and just doing new things  and having crazy experiences. 

I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to figure out what I love and honestly that just breaks my heart because here’s the thing, as children we just automagically gravitate towards what we love, and we are wholly unapologetic about it. 

But then, the world brings us down, teaches us that some of the things we love aren’t socially acceptable and we have to fit into some sort of societal norms   Instead. (I’m looking at you, solo Taco Bell trips that everyone told me I was so weird for…) 

And here’s the thing, I’m not talking about things that will hurt anyone else. I’m talking about how someone who loves reading stops doing it because society says it’s not the thing you should be doing right now. 

What do I mean? I mean I was supposed to be in total mom mode. That’s what everyone wants from us these days. Anything less than that, and we aren’t doing our job. 

That meant the things I love— reading, wandering, and who knows what the heck else just all stopped for a while. 

And if I can offer one piece of advice to moms just starting out, it’s not to lose yourself in the madness of momhood— because you’re there underneath all of that you’re you, don’t forget it. 

The thing is this— when we aren’t ourselves, when we don’t show our children that mistakes are a part of life and that we make them, too— then they become perfectionists and that just isn’t fair to them. Because they don’t just need to see our highlight reel. They also need to know that we have a whole life happening that we’ve kept from them as kiddos, and we have to live it. 

But like— what if we lived our lives in a way that shows them we aren’t perfect? That we are totally capable of mistakes and then figuring things out after. 

Oh man, now I’m questioning everything… 

But if y’all need me, I will be downloading a weird amount of books to my kindle. Because I’m only doing what I love from now on.