The Season I Disappear

Where I go when I need to come back to myself

Summer is supposed to feel light.

School ends.
The sun stays out longer.
Everything feels louder, brighter, fuller.

And it is.

More sunshine.
More movement.
More attention is needed.
More capacity is required.

Now, I may have been born on June 30th…

But I’ve never really considered myself a summer girl.

Although, honestly, being anemic probably explains why I enjoy the heat more than most people.

What people don’t always realize is that summer is also the heaviest transition season for me emotionally.

There’s deep trauma tied to this time of year.

Not just memories.
Patterns.
Nervous system responses.
The kind of things your body remembers before your mind catches up.

And all of it tends to rise at the same time:

• the end of school chaos

• the shift out of sports mom mode

• increased demands at home

• transitions in routine

All while moving through the space between my mother’s birthday on May 28th and my Grandma June’s birthday on June 11th.

She passed in 2005.

And somehow this season still carries echoes of her.

A few years ago, an H&R Block worker called me a “domestic goddess” after I awkwardly said I was “just” a stay-at-home mom.

That phrase stayed with me.

Because the truth is—

This season requires more from me than almost any other part of the year.

Not just physically.

Emotionally too.

This is the season where I intentionally step back.

For myself.
For my mental health.
For my family.
For the version of myself I want to continue becoming.

About five years ago, I started taking what I now call my Annual Birthday Vacation.

Two weeks completely off work.

No deadlines.
No crisis management.
No pressure to keep producing.

Just life.

Just presence.

It became non-negotiable for me.

Because my sons are juniors in high school now.

My daughter is in 7th grade.

And I’m deeply aware that I don’t have many “school summers” left.

That realization changes you.

So yes, there will always be seasons where I disappear a little from work.

Not because I lack discipline.

But because I finally learned that rest is part of sustainability.

The biggest thing I’ve learned over the last five years is this:

I enjoy solitude.
Not isolation.

There’s a difference.

Isolation feels like survival.

Solitude feels like breathing.

Even two quiet minutes to myself can completely reset the way I move through the rest of my day.

And once I realized that, I started protecting it.

When I picture life after my kids graduate…

(Which still feels unreal, knowing my youngest graduates in 2031.)

I don’t picture hustle.

I picture peace.

Waking up slowly.
Working a few focused hours each day.
Traveling maybe.
Creating.
Living quietly.

And honestly…

I think this season is teaching me how to build that life now instead of waiting for permission to enjoy it later.

So if I disappear a little during the summer…

Just know I’m not lost.

I’m resting.
Recharging.
Living.

And learning how to hold both ambition and peace at the same time.

✍🏻 AM — Grounded in raw. Real. Grit. Healing.