You love being their parent, and you've lost track of who you are otherwise
Somewhere between the feedings and the pickups and the endless small logistics, the version of you that existed before children got quieter and quieter. You still know their nap schedule by heart, but you'd have to think hard to name the last thing you did purely because you wanted to. The hobbies lapsed, the friendships thinned out, and "how are you?" became a question you answer on your child's behalf.
None of this means you love your kids any less — in most cases it's the opposite, and that's exactly what makes it so hard to talk about. When your whole self has poured into caring for someone small and completely dependent on you, wanting a piece of it back can feel like a betrayal, even though it isn't one.
I'm a therapist in the Seattle area, and a good deal of my work is with parents who are trying to find the balance between their children and their own identity. People who are wonderful at being someone's parent and have quietly stopped being anyone else.
What we work on together
The work is less about carving out time you don't have and more about the belief underneath the exhaustion, the sense that your own needs come last by default, and that a good parent disappears into the role. Together we tend to look at:
The self that went quiet. The interests, ambitions, and friendships that lapsed, and what it would take to let even one of them back in without waiting for some future when things "calm down."
The guilt of wanting anything for yourself, where it was learned, and why it tends to be loudest in the parents who are doing the most. This overlaps closely with people-pleasing and boundaries.
Resentment, which is usually less about your family and more about the slow accumulation of needs that never got met, often riding along with the invisible mental load.
The relationship, if you have a partner: how you've drifted into being co-managers of a household rather than two people, and what it would take to be a couple again. Sometimes that belongs in couples therapy.
Who you are becoming, not only who you used to be. Parenthood genuinely changes a person, and the goal isn't to reclaim an old self intact but to build one that has room for both your kids and you.
If what you're carrying is more the day-to-day depletion of the early years (the burnout, the rage, the mental load) therapy for parents of young children is the closer starting point, and the two overlap comfortably.
Some common questions
Isn't it selfish to want time and a life of my own?
It's one of the most common fears I hear, and the honest answer is no. A parent who has completely disappeared into the role tends to have less to give, not more, and children are good at sensing when a parent is depleted and performing. Tending to your own life isn't taken from your kids; it's part of what lets you show up for them as a steady person rather than a running-on-empty one.
Is this the same as postpartum depression?
Not necessarily. What we're describing is often an identity strain rather than a mood disorder, a real and painful sense of having lost yourself, without the persistent hopelessness or loss of function that would point to depression. If it does start to look like more than that, we'll name it and fold it into the wider work of perinatal therapy; if the shift began right after the birth, becoming a parent reorganizes identity in ways that are worth understanding on their own terms.
I feel guilty even bringing this up. Is that normal?
Very. Many parents preface the whole conversation with how grateful they are, precisely because naming the loss feels like ingratitude for a child they wanted badly. That guilt is worth working with directly rather than pushing past, because it's usually the very thing keeping you from taking up any space at all.
Do I need a diagnosis for this?
No. "I love my kids and I don't know who I am anymore" is a completely legitimate reason to come in. Plenty of the people I see aren't dealing with a disorder at all; they're navigating a genuine life transition that our culture tends to leave people to sort out alone.
Can we do this online?
Yes, and for parents of young children it's often the only realistic option. Most of this work is available online across Washington State, with a limited number of evening slots, so sessions can happen after bedtime without a commute.
What happens next
You pick a time for us to meet directly on my calendar. Fifteen minutes, free, video or phone. You don't have to have the words ready or fill out long forms, I understand the first step can be difficult.
We meet virtually and talk about what's going on. I'll tell you honestly whether I'm the right fit, and if I'm not, I'll point you toward someone in my network who is.
If it feels right, we schedule your first full session, usually within a week. I see clients at my office in Edmonds on the waterfront, or virtually across Washington State.
