Here’s what 2025 taught me about motherhood, identity, and being a woman who refuses to disappear inside the noise.
This year, I learned a lot about myself while doing extremely unglamorous things.
Like eating cold leftovers standing at the bench.
Breaking up toddler arguments with inanimate objects.
Opening my Notes app to write something “important” and forgetting what it was because someone needed a snack immediately.
Repeatedly.
2025 didn’t hand me clarity in a lightning bolt. It handed it to me in moments like realising I’d been wearing the same stretchy pants for three days straight… and still having a strong opinion about who I am and what matters to me.
Which, honestly, feels like growth.
I didn’t disappear. But I definitely went quiet for a while.
There were parts of this year where I wondered if I’d quietly packed myself away for safekeeping.
Not in a dramatic way.
More like… I’ll get back to me once this season calms down.
Except the season didn’t calm down. It just changed outfits.
Motherhood has this sneaky way of convincing you that disappearing is noble. That being endlessly available is love. That if you’re tired, flat, or overstimulated, it’s probably just a “you problem”.
This year taught me that going quiet isn’t the same as being gone.
And that I’m allowed to turn my own volume back up without apologising.
I stopped trying to “get back to myself” (because she doesn’t exist anymore)
For a long time, I thought the goal was to return to the pre-baby version of me.
You know the one.
More spontaneous.
Less tired.
Could leave the house without a full logistical operation.
2025 gently but firmly showed me that woman is not coming back. And she shouldn’t.
Because she hadn’t been cracked open yet. She hadn’t had her nervous system tested daily by tiny humans with loud feelings and zero respect for personal space.
This year wasn’t about reclaiming an old identity. It was about letting a new one form. Slower. Deeper. Less impressed by hustle and more interested in truth.
Most of my “identity crises” were actually nervous system meltdowns
This one was humbling.
A lot of the moments where I thought, What am I doing with my life? Who even am I anymore?
…were actually moments where I was just wildly overstimulated, under-rested, and holding too much.
I didn’t need a breakthrough.
I needed food, space, and five minutes without being touched.
Learning to regulate before trying to solve my entire existence has been one of the biggest lessons of the year. Calm didn’t come from figuring things out. It came from settling my body enough to remember I’m not actually failing at life.
I’m just a mum in a very full season.
I don’t want an easier life. I want a truer one.
Here’s the thing. I don’t want motherhood to be quieter, tidier, or more “Instagram-friendly”.
I want it to be honest.
I want to build something meaningful without burning myself to the ground.
I want to mother my children and myself at the same time.
I want ambition and nervous system safety. Preferably in the same day, but I’m flexible.
2025 showed me that disappearing often looks like being “fine”. Like postponing your needs. Like telling yourself you’ll come back to yourself later.
I’m not doing that anymore.
Becoming untamed looks a lot like being anchored
This year stripped the fantasy out of “untamed” for me.
It’s not loud.
It’s not chaotic.
It’s not blowing everything up for the sake of freedom.
Untamed is choosing alignment when it would be easier to numb out.
Untamed is building slowly on purpose.
Untamed is saying no without a PowerPoint presentation to justify it.
It’s staying with yourself in the middle of ordinary days. Even when your tea’s cold. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re still figuring it out.
Especially then.
If I had to sum up 2025 in one truth, it would be this
Motherhood didn’t erase me this year.
It asked me to show up more honestly.
To stop abandoning myself in the name of coping.
To regulate before reinventing.
To let this season shape me without shrinking me.
I’m heading into the next year less frantic, more rooted, and still very much mid-becoming.
But I’m here.
And that counts.
Your turn.
What did 2025 teach you about motherhood, identity, or who you’re becoming now?
Tell me your biggest lesson.
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