Turning 40 and all that comes with it!

Turning 40 is hitting different. This is my honest take on motherhood, healing generational trauma, navigating ADHD, and raising kids without passing down the same patterns.

In less than 30 days, I’ll be turning 40.

And honestly? I’m confused.

Because how did we get here so fast? I swear I just graduated high school, blinked, and now I’m a whole mom of three, married, running a business, and Googling “why am I tired all the time” like it’s my full-time job.

Twenty years ago, this life wasn’t even on my radar.
I was the party girl. Priorities? Party first, figure life out later. You couldn’t tell me a thing.

Now I catch myself thinking, “Dang… if I skipped just one less rum and coke pitcher and actually paid attention in my visual marketing classes…”

But also? Everything I’ve done led me here. And I like it here.

40 Looks Different This Time Around

What’s wild is my daughter, Bexley, is the same age I was when my mom turned 40.

And let me tell you—my mom’s 40 in the late ‘90s?
Very different from my 40 in 2026.

I’m not just raising kids. I’m actively trying to break generational cycles while raising them. And that’s a whole different level of parenting.

Because if I’m being real… I didn’t have the easiest childhood.
And whether we like it or not, that stuff follows you.

It shows up in your self-esteem.
Your relationships.
Your parenting.

The Moment That Changed Everything

I’ll never forget when Bexley was in kindergarten during the pandemic.

She got a 78% on an iReady test.

And without thinking, I said,
“Why didn’t you get a 100%?”

Y’all…

I watched the light leave her eyes.

Like, instantly.

If this were a movie, that would’ve been the scene where the narrator says,
“And this is where the anxiety begins.”

And I knew right then—I couldn’t keep parenting from a place of my own unresolved trauma.

Because I lived that pressure. And I refuse to pass that down.

Relearning How to Be a Mom (and a Human)

So I did something different.

I started parenting opposite of how I was raised.
I went to therapy.
I got on medication for anxiety and depression.
I got diagnosed with ADHD and finally started understanding my brain instead of fighting it.

And honestly? I’ve also started realizing I might be on the autism spectrum.

My middle child is—and the more I learn, the more I see myself in him.

At this point, I don’t even feel like I need a formal diagnosis to validate it.
I’m just learning to unmask, understand myself better, and build a life that actually works for me.

Not the version of me the world expects.
The version of me that feels real.

Motherhood, But Make It Honest

Now let’s be clear…

Am I a perfect mom? Absolutely not.
Do I lose my temper sometimes? Yep.
Do I still show up, apologize, validate their feelings, and try to do better? Every single time.

Except my toddler.

He’s feral.

Respectfully… post-pandemic babies are built different.

My walls? Drawn on.
My carpet? Also drawn on.
My bank card? Missing.
My jewelry? Gone.
My favorite mug? RIP.
My hairline? Hanging on by five strands—and I’m protecting every last one.