Auto Pilot

I noticed…
that when my confidence in my image fell, it didn’t fall alone.
It dragged other parts of me down with it.
It wasn’t just
what do I look like?
or does this outfit fit?
or am I still beautiful?
It became…
Am I still capable?
Am I still good at the things I once loved?
Do I still belong in the life I was building?
And suddenly,
I wasn’t just questioning my reflection…
I was questioning myself.
I shut down inside.
I switch to autopilot.
My body keeps moving,
my mouth still answers,
my hands still do what they need to do…
But my mind?
My mind leaves me
for just a minute.
And in that minute,
I become a stranger
in my own skin.
But I’m thankful…
for the ones who bring me back.
Because even in my lowest moments,
life still happens around me.
And sometimes,
the smallest things
pull me back to earth.
Like looking at my kids.
A toddler putting stuffies
into an empty basket
in the living room,
learning the world
one innocent discovery at a time.
And the other…
in that phase where it’s
“Mom, I’m almost a preteen,”
but still…
still remembers
how to use her imagination.
Still knows how to play.
Still knows how to be free.
And I watch them…
and something in me softens.
Because in the middle of my doubt,
in the middle of my mind's absence…
I remember:
I am still here.
I am still doing something right.
I am still a good mother.
And maybe that’s the thing…
Confidence doesn’t always come back
in the mirror first.
Sometimes it comes back
in the way your child laughs.
In the way your child learns.
In the way you keep showing up
even when you don’t feel whole.
So I remind myself:
Hold your head higher.
Not because you never break…
but because even when you do,
you still love.
You still nurture.
You still build magic
in the middle of ordinary days.
And that?
That matters.
I matter.
Because I am a good mother.
And that is more than enough.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2026

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