Why I Put Myself in a TIME-OUT

I’m 37, and I’ve lived a lot of life. A lot of survival, actually. I’ve been the mom who held it all together, the woman who kept pushing through, the girl who never really got to be just that a girl who was held, nurtured, and understood.

Recently, I hit a wall. A full-blown awakening. And the only thing I knew to do was put myself in a time-out. Not to punish myself but to finally listen to myself. To stop the noise, the doing, the proving.

I’ve been sitting with layers of grief, patterns, pain, coping, overgiving, and control. It’s all unraveling. And underneath it? I’m finding me.

This blog is going to be raw. It’s not curated. It’s not perfect. It’s a living reflection of healing, being a mother, and trying to figure out what it means to live as your true self when you were never really taught how.

If you’ve ever felt like the black sheep, the runaway, the good girl who cracked or the healer who needed healing this space is for you.

I’m so glad you’re here.

Love,

Brittany

(aka Reckless Femme)