The mom who scraped herself off the floor — and built a plan.
I have one son. And when he left, the house didn't just go quiet — my whole identity went quiet with it. For years I was the fighter, the advocate, the mom in that school battling for his services, celebrating every win, showing up for every swim meet, every band competition, every hard day. That was my job. And then, suddenly, it wasn't.
I cried in the cereal aisle. I walked into his room to ask what he wanted for dinner — and he wasn't there. I got in the car not knowing where to go because he wasn't driving me anymore.
After I scraped myself off the floor, I made a game plan. I went back to school — film school, at my age. I built this community. I created a roadmap for the road I was already walking, because I knew I couldn't be the only mom standing in a quiet kitchen asking what comes next.
It is okay to be my age and start over. And it's okay to be yours.
"I'm not sure I can say I gave up anything. Maybe what's truer is this: I set aside some of my own dreams to ensure he pursued his. Given up is gone. Set aside is still on the shelf, waiting."
— Your Nestie Bestie
Every tutor, every tear, every extra hour of work — advocating for a child whose journey through school was not an easy one. Worth it. Every bit.
Film school, at my age. Because a mentor said the studios were coming, something lit up, and I said yes.
He helps plan the trips now. That's the promotion. That's what mentor looks like when it's working.
This community. Built so no mom has to stand alone in that quiet kitchen.