Download This Free Burnout Recovery Workbook for Moms
Hey Mama,
Back for another round? Good. Because we’re not just moms—we’re still whole-ass people under the piles of laundry and endless snack negotiations. This is week two of The Burnout Recovery Workbook For Moms series, and if you missed last week’s prompt, go check it out first (and seriously, grab the free journal workbook if you haven’t yet).
This week’s prompt is going to feel like déjà vu, but that’s because identity isn’t a one-and-done exploration. Both last and this week’s questions live in the Self-Reflection & Identity category for a reason: they’re meant to dig up those buried pieces of yourself. But where last week asked who you were, this week is asking how you spent your time—and the difference between those two is more revealing than you might expect. One is about your sense of self; the other is about how that self moved through the world.
In this article:
How Did I Used to Spend My Free Time Before Kids?
What Did I Enjoy Doing Just for Me?
This Is What “Me Time” Looks Like Now
How Did I Used to Spend My Free Time Before Kids?
Before I had a kid, my free time was mine in the truest, most glorious sense. And I spent it doing whatever the hell I wanted.
I traveled to over 20 countries; six of them completely solo. I booked flights on a whim, I explored cities without an itinerary, and I didn’t have to worry about nap schedules or making sure anyone had snacks (other than me).
I used to go places by myself. I went to restaurants by myself and actually enjoy it—headphones in, a book on the table, ordering dessert just because I felt like it. I saw movies alone. Ventured to bars alone. Even clubs in LA alone. I was never waiting for someone to come with me; I was the plan.
I rotted away in my bed or couch. Like I mentioned last week, I binge watched tv stoned. Honestly, I used to get high almost every day. It wasn’t about partying or escaping—it was about relaxing. I loved lighting up and zoning out with a good show or movie, fully immersed in my own little world. Just me, a comfy blanket, and absolutely no obligations. It was the ultimate form of self-care, back when I had the luxury of time and zero interruptions.
I went out with friends. I was fun and had stories that didn’t include diaper blowouts. We laughed until we cried, danced until our feet hurt, and stayed up way too late. I also showed up for them. I helped dog-sit, fix broken fences (literally), and make budgets to help them get out of debt. I had the time and energy to be that kind of friend.
My husband (when he was just my boyfriend) and I used to actually do things together. We went kayaking a lot. We went to bars and got blackout wasted. We came home and did drugs. We babied the dog like she was our actual child. Our weekends were spontaneous and wild, and we didn’t need a babysitter to make it happen.
I tried to turn my party lifestyle into profit. I started a women’s bar crawl business—part nightlife experience, part networking hub, and part "let's make this questionable decision make us some money." I figured, if I was going to be out partying anyway, why not slap a logo on it and call it entrepreneurship? It was fun and the perfect mix of buzzed ambition and "girlboss" energy, before either term made me cringe.
Looking back, my time wasn’t just free—it was full. Full of things that lit me up, challenged me, and let me feel completely in control of my own life. Sometimes it was wild and messy. Sometimes it was quiet and nourishing. But it was mine. And while a lot of what I did reflected who I was, not everything I did was deeply personal.
So, let’s get a little more specific. What were the things I actually enjoyed—just for me, with no audience, no purpose, and no one else in mind?
Related: Repurposing Your Former Party Lifestyle for Parenting
What Did I Enjoy Doing Just for Me?
Everything. That’s the short answer. But to be more specific, I:
Daydreamed and fantasized.
Wrote whatever I wanted, however I wanted—with no SEO, no brand voice, no judgment.
Reorganized my furniture for fun and then moved it again the next day.
Got dressed up for no reason.
Scream-sang in the car.
Danced half-naked in my apartment.
Went on dates just to get a free dinner, drinks, and a good story.
Went down internet rabbit holes for hours, researching things like old Hollywood movie plots, weird conspiracy theories, or how to move to Australia.
I started an erotic blog to document my slutty adventures. It was bold, racy, fun, and absolutely not parent-approved. I wasn’t afraid of my own story. I celebrated it. I didn’t create it because I wanted attention, but because I loved my life so much.
And it turns out, the smut actually became popular among my friends… and even my family. My favorite aunt would ask her daughter—my cousin—to print out the posts for her so she could read them. A very proud moment, at least for me.
Maybe that’s why I started this blog in my mommy era too. Because I still believe my life—messy, chaotic, mom-flavored and all—is worth sharing. Also? Tax write-off. Let’s be real.
Related: The Secret to Not Losing Your Mind as a Parent (It’s Not Another Routine)
How My "Me Time" Has Changed—And Why That's Not a Bad Thing
These days, my version of "me time" might look like scrolling on my phone in the bathroom or folding laundry while listening to a podcast. But here’s the thing—that’s not sad. It’s not a downgrade. It’s just different.
I drank whiskey straight from the bottle. But now, my body says nothing more than beer, thanks.
I remember being alone in my first apartment, trying to do a handstand, and suddenly thinking: If I break my neck right now, how long would it take for someone to find me? That was the price of absolute independence. Thrilling, yes. But also terrifying.
I loved being slutty. I truly did. But now? Even if my husband dropped dead tomorrow, I don’t think I’d ever sleep with another man again. That era was fun. Necessary, even. And it’s over.
The point is, I got to live that life. I got twenty years of doing whatever the hell I wanted. I have zero regrets. And because I went all in on that version of me, I don’t resent this one. I don’t look back with longing. I look back with appreciation.
I got to know myself, so now I can bring that same enthusiasm and curiosity into motherhood. My time isn’t as free as it once was, but my sense of self is stronger than ever. And that matters.
I’m not trying to recreate my old life—I’m just trying to carry the best of her forward. This piece from Parentscalls it “getting your pink back,” and honestly? That hits. We’re not trying to go back—we’re trying to remember that we still matter.
So now it’s your turn. What did you do before motherhood that made you feel like yourself? What did you enjoy purely for you? And is there any piece of that you can bring back now—no matter how small?
Download The Burnout Recovery Workbook for Moms, grab a pen, and hear your own voice again.
If reflecting on all this brings up something heavy, you’re not alone—and there are free support groups just for moms that offer community without judgment.
