My Story: Why I Help Sensitive SAHMs

I’ve always had intense feelings. Not in a loud, dramatic way…more in a “this feeling is SO strong in my mind and body that I don’t really know how to function right now” kind of way.

I’ve always noticed subtle changes in someone’s mood or tone of voice. I’ve always had lots of deep thoughts and spent hours pondering things that other people probably don’t give two licks about. As Dr. Becky Kennedy would say, I’m one of those “deeply feeling” kinds. Or as Elaine Aron coined it, a “highly sensitive person.”

Growing up, I didn’t have language for that. I didn’t even know what high sensitivity was or that it applied to me. I just knew I felt everything. I carried a lot internally. Because of that, I mostly preferred being alone or in one-on-one situations rather than in loud, large groups. There was less to process that way.

Deep feeling + introversion hasn’t been an easy combo to live with.

Cue the anxiety and depression from the constant swirl of thoughts with nowhere to go.

The “functional” digestive issues from the stress of living in a chronic state of hypervigilance simply because my nervous system picked up on everything.

The lack of confidence from not knowing how to be who I was or ask for what I needed to feel safe.

For most of my childhood and young adulthood, I felt like something was wrong with me. While my peers were thriving on socialization, I was the one falling asleep on the bus ride home, then escaping to my room to recoup after school. They were in sports, confidently trying new things, and I second-guessed every little decision.

As I came into young adulthood, I felt behind. Like I had missed the memo on what I was supposed to be doing in life to be “successful”. Everyone else seemed to have a plan, and I was floundering.

I eventually earned a degree because that’s what you were supposed to do. But it didn’t take long to become disillusioned with the corporate world. I would daydream of all the other things I’d rather be doing, wondering how I was supposed to sit at a desk and be productive for 8 straight hours M-F. I’d go to the bathroom and cry because I felt so bored and stuck.

After some soul searching and prayer, I found Wellness Coaching and became certified. And suddenly, the very things that felt like liabilities my whole life became real strengths. I felt as if I had finally found my “thing”.

Being a quiet listener and observer? An asset.

Comfortable with complex emotions and people’s inner worlds? A gift.

Navigating health and confidence challenges myself? Experience.

From there, I built a hodgepodge career in HR and Corporate Wellness, health coaching, and group fitness, and, for the first time, I felt like I was thriving. I had meaningful work. A life outside my head. Novelty.

Then came motherhood.

With my oldest, I went back to work after the standard maternity leave. Yes, becoming a mom was a complete shock to my sensitive system — but I still had space. Space to think. To process. To grow. Space that was still mine outside of motherhood. 

When my second son was born, everything shifted. Staying home was best for our family — especially with a baby who refused a bottle and didn’t sleep for 13 months.

But I wasn’t prepared for the depth of identity change. Or the nervous system overload that came with it.

I was raised to know Jesus, and my faith has always been the glue holding my life together. And in this season — the one that feels like it demands more of me than I have to give — I’m being stretched to grow in new and hard ways.

In the past, whenever life got hard, I ran, froze, or fixed.

If I didn’t like a decision? I would change it.

If my body was acting up? I’d look for something to fix it.

If my job was draining me? I’d get a new one or add something on the side.

So when motherhood started to feel overwhelming—and I couldn't run away or make my kids less noisy—I decided it was time to go back to work. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I haven’t applied for hundreds of jobs in my moments of pure desperation.

But what I keep coming back to is that this time around, things feel different.

What if I’m not meant to run?

What if I’m being invited to stay?

To sit in discomfort and listen to what it’s trying to teach me.

To listen to my body and my sensitivity and learn how to care for myself.

To depend on God instead of working harder to control myself and how others see me.

So here I am.

A woman saved by grace.

A wellness coach.

An introvert.

A highly sensitive mom.

I'm in the messy middle, becoming the woman God is shaping me into through this season.

I don’t have all the answers. But I’m not going to stop being who I am. Better yet, I’m determined that with God’s guidance, I’ll BECOME stronger, wiser, steadier, and learn to be OKAY with who I am and how He designed me.

If you're reading this and parts of my story feel strangely familiar, I hope you'll stick around. Over the next several posts, I'll share what I'm learning about sensitivity, motherhood, faith, boundaries, identity, and caring for the nervous system God gave us.

And if you ever reach a place where you'd like someone to walk alongside you in that journey, I'd be honored to do that. Until then, I just want you to know this…

If you’re an introverted, deeply feeling stay-at-home mom who feels like she disappeared somewhere between diapers and all-day duty — I see you.

If the noise, the needs, and the constant touching feel overwhelming to your system — I see you.

If you sometimes want to run, but you choose to stay and grow into the woman God created you to be — I see you.

And if you're wondering whether you can become stronger without becoming someone else, I think you're in the right place.

If parts of my story felt like your story, I'd love to invite you to take my free Sensitive Mom Quiz. It will help you identify what's contributing most to your overwhelm and where you may need support in this season.