Remembering "me"

These last two years have been a journey of remembering who I was before I became all the labels I’ve worn over the past 25 years. I went from college student to grad student, to fiancée, then wife—and soon after, “mom.” As my career grew, I became “boss,” and eventually “exec.”

Each of these labels holds a little piece of me, but not all of me. What about the young woman who loved crafts and painting? The quiet, patient learner who could lose herself in a book or wander happily through a museum? There were parts of me I never made time to develop—like learning carpentry or becoming a published writer.

In my work, we often use Gallup Strengths to describe ourselves—I'm Significance, Achiever, Maximizer, and more. But even those don’t fully capture who I am.

Now, as I settle into my 50th year, I realize these labels are more than roles—they're badges of pride and accomplishment. I will never tire of being called “mom” and hope someday to be called “Gigi” (yes, I’ve already picked my grandma name). I’m grateful to be “wife” to a partner who gets me and encourages me to be my authentic self. I’m proud of the career I’ve built and the labels that came with it.

But now, in this next season of life, I want to shed the labels—or at least loosen their grip—and just be me.

These last two years have also marked a huge shift for us: our first years as empty nesters. The house is quieter. The schedule is lighter. There’s more space—physically, mentally, and emotionally—to rediscover who I am outside of parenting. It’s been a strange, beautiful mix of freedom and reflection. For the first time in a long time, I’m not caring for someone else around the clock—and that has opened the door to caring for myself.

I’m not entirely sure who I am yet without all the structure and chaos, but I’m excited to find out. I want to discover things that light me up—and maybe scare me a little. We’ve already started to travel more. I even got a table saw (okay, a miter saw, as my brother-in-law correctly pointed out) so I can tackle house projects. Every day, a new idea bubbles up about what I might want to do next.

Yes, there are moments of sadness as I grieve the younger version of myself—her energy, her body, her endless optimism. But in her place is someone with deeper joy, more curiosity, and a stronger spirit. Don’t be sad for the girl who’s gone. Be proud of the woman she became—wiser, funnier, bolder, and more appreciative of it all.