Reclaim Your Seat…
There’s something no one tells you about being everything for everybody: eventually, you forget to be something for yourself. It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s not like you wake up one day and say, “I think I’ll stop caring about myself today.” No, it’s a slow fade. A gradual exchange of “me” for “them” until you’re holding pieces of everyone else’s dreams and wondering when you last dreamed for yourself.
I’ve spent at least the last seventeen years showing up—for my kids, my husband, my family. I showed up at football games, dance recitals, cheer competitions, school events, doctor’s appointments, practices, and parent meetings, basketball games & tournaments. I poured so much into everyone else that I didn’t even notice how dry I had become. Not bitter. Just… empty. Not angry. Just invisible.
This isn’t one of those “I hate my life” stories. Because I actually love my life. I love the family I’ve built. I love the way my heart still skips when my son makes a big play or when my daughter walks out the house looking exactly like the young woman I prayed I’d raise. I love being the quiet force behind my husband’s success—the one holding it all together, even when no one sees it. But somewhere along the way, I lost me. I realized recently that I had built the whole table—made the plans, set the vision, did the work—and then forgot to pull up a seat for myself. I was the planner, the doer, the cheerleader, the fixer, the emotional anchor. I became fluent in everyone else’s needs and silent about my own. It hit me the hardest when I caught myself watching my life instead of living it. I was in the room, but not really there. And y’all, it’s hard to admit that. Especially when, from the outside, it looks like you’ve got it all together.
I’m learning now to choose me in small ways. To listen to the version of me that doesn’t have on the “wife,” “mom,” or “coach’s wife” hat. The version of me who used to laugh loudly, write freely, and dream wildly. She’s still here. She’s just been waiting for me to sit down at the table I built. So this post isn’t about regret. It’s about reclaiming. Because I can love my family and love myself. I can pour into others and refill my own cup. I can show up for everyone else without disappearing in the process.
And maybe you needed that reminder, too.
XOXO Kaye,