Last week, I took both of my kids to the beach—on my own.
It may not sound like a big deal. But for me, it was huge.
Just over a year ago, I was living in a near-constant state of fear. It all started after a scary interaction with a stranger while I was out with my newborn, Miller. He was just 8 weeks old, and I still vividly remember the moment—I felt shaken, vulnerable, and completely powerless.
Nothing physical happened. But mentally, emotionally, it left a scar.
The “what ifs” started to take over:
What if Peyton had been with me too? What if I couldn’t protect them? What if something worse had happened?
I couldn’t stop the spiral. I couldn’t sleep well. I couldn’t relax. The joy of motherhood faded into a fog of constant stress and fear.
Looking back, I don’t think the moment itself would’ve affected me as intensely if I hadn’t just had a baby. I was raw—emotionally, physically, and mentally. Sleep-deprived. Navigating life with a newborn and a toddler. That one event pushed me into survival mode.
And I stayed there.
For weeks, I kept going through the motions, pretending I was okay. But inside, I was unraveling. I started to feel like a failure—like I wasn’t cut out for this, like I couldn’t protect my kids, like I was broken.
Eventually, I hit a point where I couldn’t carry it alone anymore. I booked an appointment with my doctor.
That decision changed everything.
My doctor listened with kindness and zero judgment. They helped me name what I was going through—anxiety, likely postpartum-related—and we decided together that I’d go on medication.
I was nervous. But within a few weeks, I started to feel the shift. I wasn’t just surviving anymore. I was slowly starting to live again.
And today, standing on that beach, with two kids laughing and running ahead of me—I felt something I hadn’t in a long, long time: joy. Not the pretend kind. Not the kind you force to get through the day. But real, peaceful joy.
I don’t feel “cured.” I still have moments. But I feel stronger. Clearer. Whole again.
If you’re reading this and you’ve been quietly struggling, please—reach out. Whether it’s to your GP, a friend, or a therapist. You don’t have to do this alone. You are not weak for needing help. You are a human being—and a mom who deserves to feel okay again.
This story isn’t about a beach trip.
It’s about reclaiming a part of myself I thought I had lost forever.
xx Jesse
