If I could go back in time to when I was pregnant with my oldest, the advice I would’ve given myself is this: Don’t worry about making your kids be good humans. Worry about making yourself one.

Yeah. You read that right. Do I want my kids to be good humans? Obviously. Of course, I do. But here’s the thing, kids do what they see, and what my kids saw was a mom who was lonely, isolated, angry, beating herself up, and very worried about how well she was doing in raising good humans. They saw a woman who didn’t feel like she mattered, who didn’t ask for what she needed, who didn’t set boundaries, who didn’t have a support system, who tried to do it all on her own.

I’ve been a mom for almost 16 years. My kids are good kids. We have struggled. Lord knows we have struggled. I have fought hard for my children. I have fought against their misconceptions and mistakes. I have fought hard against mental illness. I have fought for opportunities and IEPs and 504s and ALPs and I have helped them fight through injuries, bullying, and intrusive thoughts telling them they aren’t enough.

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But I wish I had spent the early years fighting for myself. I wish I had spent the early years learning how to regulate my emotions. Learning how to be a person who pursues her dreams, learning how to be a person who keeps her word and takes herself seriously but has SO MUCH FUN doing it. I wish I had had the strength to try the things God put me on this earth to do many years ago while they were still young because when little kids see you doing things, they mimic you. If I had healed myself and carved out time for doing things that bring me joy and are important to me, I would’ve been less exhausted. My kids would’ve had a healthier mom who had the tools to help them deal with their own big feelings.

But instead, I inadvertently taught them moms’ dreams don’t matter because kids’ lives matter more. I taught them it was okay to beat yourself up and eat your feelings and not do what God put you on this earth to do. I showed them settling for what the world says you should want is the way to go instead of having the courage to do the things God’s voice has been screaming at you to do for as long as you can remember.

Because if I’m honest, I never wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. It was a terrible decision for me. I didn’t have enough dopamine to stay at home with tiny humans, and I became resentful and lonely. Should I have kept my career as a teacher? That was impossible. My husband had just landed his “dream” job. Someone had to make a sacrifice, or we’d have been paying more than my salary in child care. We’d have lost money for me to teach, at least in the short run. That made no sense. So we did the best we could. And that meant my kids had a mom wandering around with untreated ADHD, depression, and anxiety.

If I could go back, I would call to find a therapist for me the way I called for my kid with autism. (It’s A LOT of phone calls.) I would carve out two hours of every day to chase my dreams. Non-negotiable. And I would stand up for my time, energy, and needs, even if my dreams aren’t bringing in money.

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Because now that I’m squarely in mid-life knowing that we don’t just keep going on forever, I am out of excuses to let fear run my life and keep telling God I don’t know how. Because He’s like, “Dude. Learn. You got the internet, what more do you want? Quit your whining and hemming and hawing. I gave you all of these gifts. Use them.” (I’m paraphrasing the Parable of the Talents quite liberally, obviously)

So now, I am becoming braver than I was before. I am becoming a person who is willing to try things that I was too afraid of before. I am willing to fail. I am willing to put myself out there to fall on my face. It is terrifying. It is painful. It is exciting. It is embarrassing. But it is part of the process of becoming who I want to be. Who I want my kids to be. Who God made me. I am learning there is nothing else. There is no secret. Try. Learn. Try again. Grow. Become. It is never too early, and it is never too late to try.