It's been a long time since I took care of me. I mean, really took care of me. Of course, I do all the day to days, sometimes just barely and out of necessity, but at the end of the night what did I do for me?

It sounds so selfish to write it. To say it out loud. What did I do for me?

I hadn't truly realized how much of myself that I've lost. Or left. Until recently.

Becoming a mother has definitely had it's fair share of stumbles. I made the decision to put myself aside and nurture this little person, having no idea what the true long term consequences would be.

The "consequences" have been rewarding. They have been frustrating and heartbreaking.  They have been beautiful and fulfilling. They have been crazy and infuriating. They have been the best 15 years and three little people I could ever ask for.

But somewhere in 15 years of acquiring all kinds of awesome, I lost some of mine. OK. A lot of mine.

So I've been thinking and talking "crazy". And scaring the mess out of my husband in the process. I'm sure he thinks I'm having some type of crisis, and hey, who am I to tell him that he's wrong?

But who am I outside of being a mom? Outside of being a wife? Of being the keeper of laundry? The cooker of dinner? The cleaner of all things household? The payer of bills? The checker of homework? Who is Sarah K?

I used to be a mover of my body. A creator of things. A writer of stories and songs. A drawer of doodles.

Am I still those things? Could I be? Do I want to be?

And so I've found myself here, writing into cyber space, about my thoughts for the day, contemplating who I was, who I am and who I aim to be.

I'm becoming Sarah K.