My Star Player is Out of Office... or so it seems

Back in 2009, when life was GOOD GOOD... everything was looking up and I somehow laughed of Sir Katt Williams' sound advice of "taking care of your star player!"

I mean WTF?!!

Another Monday. Another 4:30 AM alarm that feels less like a wake-up call and more like a gentle nudge off a cliff. The kind of cliff where the fall isn't painful, just... endless. You know the feeling, right?

The kids are still asleep, thank God. Their little faces so full of dreams, and demands are momentarily peaceful. For just a little bit it's my turn: a quick shower, slapping on some body oil, maybe a little perfume, and something decent to a job that pays the bills but rarely sparks joy. Every once in a while, there may be time for mindless scrolling on the porcelain throne... but one minute too long sends our morning into a tailspin. Either way, soon, it'll be a tornado of breakfasts, packing lunch, missing shoes, bookbag checks, and the daily scramble to get them out the door on time, fed, and looking somewhat presentable for school. (I didn't say nothing about SOCKS...that's a totally different drama)

Then I toil at the slave ship, building someone's else's dreams, while neglecting my own. I never take a decent "lunch" because at 2:00 I make a mad dash across town to start school pickups at 2:25 but have to be back by 3:00. And after that? More after school pickups, soccer practice, music lessons, dinner, baths, bedtime stories, and another load of laundry? Silence. The kind of silence that used to feel like a luxury but now feels... hollow. Empty... except for a nagging feeling that I forgot about something...

My life currently feels like a high-stakes circus act where I’m the clown, the acrobat, and the person cleaning up after the elephants. Between the 9-to-5 grind, the "Mom, where are my soccer cleats?" 6 AM interrogations, and the extracurricular schedule that looks like a NASA flight plan, I’m tired.

And not "I need a nap" tired. I’m "I need a new identity and a one-way ticket to an island where no one knows my name and my pants size isn't evident" tired.

I feel like I'm living inside an echo chamber of "shoulds."

• "You should be enjoying this precious time with your children." (I am, mostly, but I'm also exhausted.)

• "You should be taking better care of yourself." (When? Between making sure they're taken care of?)

• "You should be putting yourself out there. You deserve love!" (I try. Oh, how I try. But the thought of another first date, another awkward conversation, another potential disappointment just... deflates me.)

• "You should be pursuing your passions." (What were those again? Oh, right. Napping.)

I scroll through social media, seeing other women my age. Some are jet-setting with their partners, some are launching businesses, some are just... glowing. And I’m here, trying to remember the last time I felt anything other than a dull hum of constant activity, punctuated by moments of acute overwhelm. It’s not sadness, exactly. It’s not even anger. It’s just... numb. Like I’m watching my own life from a distance, operating on autopilot.

The wildest part? I’ve become a ghost in my own house. I’m the CEO of Laundry, the CFO of Lunch Money, and the COO of Emotional Support... but who is [Insert Your Name Here]? I feel like I’m fading into the paint on the walls. I’m so busy making sure everyone else is "living their best life" that I forgot to check if I even had a life left to live! I remember being a person with interests, with dreams, with a spark... with STYLE!!! Hell... I even wore MAKEUP (minimum but it was there!) Where did she go? Did she get buried under a mountain of socks and school permission slips? Is she hiding somewhere, waiting for permission to resurface?

I look in the mirror sometimes and don’t quite recognize the woman staring back. Not because she looks old or tired (though, let’s be real, she often does... my EDGES are gray!!), but because her eyes seem to be asking, "Are you still in there?"

I want to feel alive again. I want to feel passionate about something, anything. I want to feel the flutter of anticipation, the warmth of genuine connection, the thrill of being seen for who I am, not just as "Mom" or "supervisor."

I’ve decided I’m done being an extra in the movie of my own life... and BE extra!! Even if "finding myself" just means locking the bathroom door for ten minutes to scroll TikTok in peace, I’m taking it. I'm definitely going to take the time to exfoliate... and shave my armpits... and err.... other places. And I'm going to eat lunch.