I Don't Feel Like Myself Anymore

Finding You Again After Postpartum Anxiety

When You Don't Recognize the Woman in the Mirror Anymore

There's a version of motherhood that gets sold to us in pastel-colored Instagram squares and baby registry ads—soft, serene, blissful. But for so many moms, the real experience feels more like waking up in someone else's body, inside someone else's life, with no map back to yourself. You might look "fine" on the outside—maybe you even fake a smile for the pediatrician or the neighbor who asks how it's going—but on the inside, you're thinking: I don't feel like me anymore. And it's terrifying.

Postpartum anxiety isn't always loud. It doesn't always scream. Sometimes, it hums just beneath the surface—buzzing through your chest as you triple-check the baby monitor, or gripping your stomach with guilt when you snap at your partner. It shows up as mental load overload, constant vigilance, or deep shame for not "loving every minute." What makes it worse? The silence. So many of us think we're the only ones feeling this way, when in truth, it's incredibly common. You are not weak. You are not failing. You are not alone. You're just in the middle of a very real, very misunderstood mental health experience—and we need to start talking about it.

What Is Postpartum Anxiety? (And Why You Might Not Know You Have It)

Most new moms hear about postpartum depression (PPD), but postpartum anxiety (PPA) tends to hide in plain sight. It's not just worrying more than usual—it's a constant mental loop of fear, control, and overwhelm that can hijack your brain, your emotions, and your identity. Some signs include:

• Persistent racing thoughts, especially about the baby's safety or your ability to be a "good" mom
• Physical symptoms like a tight chest, rapid heartbeat, or trouble breathing
• An intense need to control everything (feeding schedules, sleep tracking, sterilizing bottles)
• Difficulty sleeping even when the baby sleeps
• Irritability or sudden bursts of anger that don't feel like "you"

It's often underdiagnosed because women tend to internalize it—brushing it off as being "just tired" or "just adjusting." But untreated postpartum anxiety can impact not only your well-being but your ability to bond with your baby and maintain relationships. Recognizing it is the first powerful step toward healing.

How Postpartum Anxiety Hijacks Your Sense of Self

This part's hard to say, but it's the truth: Motherhood can feel like an identity crisis in slow motion.

You're not only learning how to care for a new person; you're quietly grieving the woman you were before. Maybe she was a badass at her job. Maybe she danced at weddings until 1 a.m. Maybe she had goals and hobbies and time to brush her hair without interruption. Now? You're measuring success by how long your baby napped—and wondering if this is all there is now.

That loss of identity is a silent grief that rarely gets acknowledged. And when it's layered with postpartum anxiety, it can feel even more confusing. You're not only overwhelmed—you don't even feel like you anymore. But here's the reframe I want to offer:

Losing yourself isn't the end. It's the messy middle. And there is a path back—not necessarily to the exact "you" from before, but to a new version that includes her strength, her voice, and her worth.

Real Stories, Real Struggles (And Why They Matter)

Late-night Reddit scrolls and parenting forums might seem like digital rabbit holes, but they're often where moms tell the truth first. In a sea of filtered perfection, these posts are raw, vulnerable, and painfully honest:

"I used to love who I was. Now I feel invisible."

"I don't want to complain, but I miss being more than just 'mom.'"

"I feel like I've lost all the pieces of me that made me… me."

Sound familiar? These voices matter—because when we read them, we realize we're not alone. And when we say them out loud, we take back some of our power.

How to Start Reclaiming Yourself (Without Waiting for the Perfect Time)

You don't need a week-long vacation or a live-in nanny to feel like yourself again. (Though let's be real—those would help.) You do need small, consistent actions that reconnect you to your identity and interrupt the anxiety spiral.

1. Call Out the Loss—And Let Yourself Grieve It

You're allowed to miss sleeping in, uninterrupted thoughts, feeling attractive, or having control over your time. Naming that loss doesn't make you ungrateful; it makes you honest. Write it in a journal. Voice note it. Cry about it. Feel it. That grief deserves space.

2. Set "Self First" Boundaries (Even the Tiny Ones Count)

Boundaries don't need to be dramatic to be powerful. Say no to visitors who stress you out. Ask your partner to take the baby while you shower—alone. Schedule 10 minutes a day with no baby talk. Reclaim your headspace.

3. Reconnect with Pre-Baby Joy Triggers

Pick one thing you used to love—singing, stretching, bad reality TV, whatever—and do it badly and briefly. Even five minutes counts. This isn't about productivity or perfection. It's about proving to your brain that "you" still exist beyond the mom role.

4. Talk About the Anxiety—Out Loud

The shame thrives in silence. Whether it's a friend, a therapist, or your Instagram stories, say the thing you're afraid to say: "I'm struggling. I don't feel like me." That moment of honesty opens the door to community, to empathy, and to actual help.

5. Know the Signs That It's Time for More Support

If the anxiety is taking over your days—or stealing your nights—it's okay (and wise) to bring in the pros. Ask your OB for a referral to a perinatal therapist. Check Postpartum Support International. Medication might be a tool. Therapy might be a lifeline. You deserve both.

The Mental Load Is Real—and It's Not Just You

Even if you're not "doing everything," you're probably thinking about everything: the bottles, the naps, the pediatrician appointments, the birthday gifts for your partner's mom. That invisible checklist is part of the mental load—and it's exhausting.

When you're anxious, that list becomes even heavier. You're not just juggling tasks—you're second-guessing every one. Did I do enough? Did I mess up? Am I a bad mom for wanting a break?

No. You're just carrying too damn much. So here's your permission slip: Drop the ball. Let someone else catch it—or let it bounce.

There's No Shame in Struggling (There's Only Bravery in Naming It)

This isn't weakness. This is the work of becoming. Becoming a mother. Becoming a woman who can hold space for both anxiety and hope. A woman who is rediscovering her strength, her voice, her boundaries.

You don't need to be "back to normal." You need support. Space. Kindness. And maybe a little reminder:

You are still in there. And she's not gone. She's growing.