Forgotten Promises: A Mid-Summer Check-In on Losing and Finding Myself

By Lauren Tarzia

Yesterday, I looked in the mirror, and I didn’t recognize myself. It was my face, but it didn’t feel like me.

Not because I've gotten older. Not because my body has changed.  But because somewhere along the way... I forgot about me.

We're almost to August, and all the plans I made for this summer never happened. If I'm being honest, this happens almost every year.

I picture slow mornings, chore charts that everyone actually follows, day trips, adventures, and memories we'll make together. I tell myself we'll have a routine. The house will stay organized. We'll spend more time outside.

And I made twenty promises to myself.

I'll lift weights.

I'll start running.

I'll eat healthier.

I'll cook more.

I'll clean out that closet.

Summer always feels like it's going to give me extra time. But when you're raising children with hidden disabilities, summer doesn't always look the way you imagined it would.

For the first half of the summer, I thought I'd finally have a little time to breathe while the boys were at camp and summer school. Instead, I found myself putting out fires and planning ahead. July isn't even over, and my mind is already living in September.

One son is preparing to transition to a brand-new school with a new team, new teachers, and new administrators. My other son is entering a grade that somehow feels even more important than the last.

My brain never really stops…ever.

IEPs.

Supports.

Friendships.

Schedules.

Transitions.

Plan A, Plan B, Plan C for both kids!

I'm constantly thinking five steps ahead, trying to make sure everyone else will be okay. And little by little, I stopped checking in with myself. Everyone else's needs came before my own.

I didn't disappear all at once. I faded away with every broken promise I made to myself.

So when I try to figure out how this happened, I remember...

Six years ago, I finally lost the baby weight. I was back to a size six. I was waking up at 5:00am every morning to exercise before work. I felt strong and healthy. I felt like Lauren.

Then COVID happened.

My son was diagnosed with autism.

My father had a major stroke.

I left my job.

We moved & built a new house. 

Life changed.

Every year since then, I've told myself this would be the year I'd get back on track. Sometimes I even start a new workout routine or home project. Then, BAM! Something happens and my “To Do” list changes.

One of my boys needs me.

School becomes overwhelming.

Anxiety increases.

A meeting gets scheduled.

A new challenge or behavior appears.

And without even realizing it, I stopped what I had started to finally do. 

Just yesterday, I sat down to do something just for myself. A few minutes later, one of my sons needed my help. I jumped in without thinking, and by the time everything settled down, I had completely forgotten what I had been doing.

Some people might say that's what being a good mother looks like.  Maybe they're right.

But I also know that being a good mother shouldn't require disappearing.

I know I'm not alone in this. I think so many parents, especially parents raising children with disabilities, become experts at advocating for everyone else while quietly placing themselves at the bottom of the list.

I have many friends and relatives who have checked in with me from time to time and say, "Hey, you are doing so much to support others but are you doing the same for yourself?" or "Make sure you carve out some ME time."

Many people would appreciate that advice and I do, but most of the time when I hear it, I become irritated. I think, "Crap! Now I have to explain to this person that I can't just let anyone take care of my kids and that I want to avoid any extra issues."

I also think, "I will someday. Once the boys are more independent and don't need me as much, I can do all of those self-care things."

Let's be real here though! As parents, our children are our first priority and for the rest of our lives there will always be something. You never stop worrying about your kids even into adulthood. I have gotta realize that this is it. And if I don't do something to better my own health and mind now, who will be here to do it when I'm gone?

My boys will always need me to be there for them one way or another. I need to accept that if I do end up leaving for a few hours to get my hair done, roam around Target for two hours picking every single thing up to look at, or just take a long walk, there will be "stuff" when I get home to deal with.

I can't look at it as extra challenges but an opportunity for my kids to recognize that Mommy will not always literally be at their side. It's also a chance for me to learn to let go and find that balance.

So maybe balance isn't about finding more hours in the day. Maybe it begins by remembering that a parent or caregiver is part of the family's balance and it won't succeed without all members being cared for.  

Prioritizing myself is not easy. But today, maybe I'll start with one small thing and hopefully build from there. “Little victories” just like I expect for my kids.  

One walk.

One healthy meal.

Ten quiet minutes.

Taking my vitamins.

One promise I actually keep.

Because I can't possibly find myself all at once. Maybe by keeping one promise to myself every day, I'll start to reappear. Because I miss being me. I miss Lauren.