The Woman in the Mirror

The Morning That Changed Everything

Simone stood in front of her bathroom mirror, mascara wand frozen in mid-air, and realized she'd been staring at her own reflection for a full minute without blinking.

The thought looping through her mind was simple. Devastating. Impossible to ignore:

I don't know who this woman is.

Not in a 'I need a makeover' kind of way. Not in a 'where did these wrinkles come from' kind of way.

In a 'when did I disappear' kind of way.

In a 'where did Simone go' kind of way.

The woman in the mirror looked like her. Same brown eyes. Same full lips that Jasmine had inherited. Same dimple in her left cheek that showed up when she smiled—though she couldn't remember the last time she'd smiled and meant it.

She was 42 years old. Two years divorced. Mother to Jasmine, 13, and Maya, 9. She had a decent job as an office manager at a mid-sized firm downtown, a small but comfortable house in a quiet neighborhood, and a life that—on paper—looked like she was doing fine.

Fine.

That word tasted like ash in her mouth.

But standing there, mascara wand still hovering, Simone realized something that made her chest tighten and her breath catch:

She had no idea what she liked anymore.

What music did she listen to when no one else was in the car? What did she do for fun—actual fun, not 'fun' that revolved around her daughters' schedules? What made

her

 happy?

Not her kids. Not her ex-husband. Not her coworkers or her mother or the PTA moms who always seemed to have their lives together.

Her.

Simone couldn't answer a single question.

The mascara wand trembled in her hand. She set it down on the counter with a click that sounded too loud in the quiet bathroom.

And that's when she knew: She had become a ghost in her own life.

The Slow Fade

It hadn't happened overnight. Disappearing never does.

For 15 years, Simone had been Marcus's wife. The pretty girl he'd charmed at a college party who'd fallen for his confidence, his big plans, his certainty about everything. She'd been the one who adjusted her dreams to fit his. The one who said 'whatever you think is best' so many times it became her default setting.

Then she'd been Jasmine and Maya's mom. The room mother. The one who never missed a school event, who packed Instagram-worthy lunches, who volunteered for every field trip. The dependable one.

Then she'd been the good employee. The one who stayed late without being asked. Who covered for everyone else. Who smiled and said 'no problem' even when it was absolutely a problem.

Then she'd been the dutiful daughter. The one who called her mother every Sunday. Who listened to the criticisms disguised as concern. Who nodded and said 'you're right, Mama' even when every cell in her body screamed otherwise.

She'd poured herself into everyone else's cups—filling, filling, filling—until her own ran dry.

And when the marriage ended two years ago—when Marcus told her he 'needed space' before moving in with Vanessa three weeks later, a woman he'd met at the gym who was 29 and had never had to lose baby weight or worry about whether her body would ever feel like her own again—Simone thought she'd finally have time to figure out who she was.

But instead, she just… kept going.

She got the girls to school. She worked. She meal-prepped on Sundays. She answered Marcus's texts about pickup times and permission slips with the efficiency of an assistant managing someone else's calendar. She smiled when people asked how she was doing.

"I'm good! Staying busy!"

Busy. That was her identity now.

Busy.

But busy doing what, exactly? Living someone else's life in a smaller house? Performing a role no one had asked her to play?

She'd traded the title of 'wife' for 'divorcée' and thought something would change. That she'd feel free. Lighter.

Different.

Instead, she just felt empty.

The Question That Broke Her

It happened three days later. Tuesday. Lunch with her coworker Renee at their usual spot—a café two blocks from the office with overpriced salads and coffee that was just good enough to justify the prices.

Renee Martinez was everything Simone wasn't. Bold. Opinionated. Unapologetically herself. She wore red lipstick to morning meetings and said 'no' without flinching. She'd been divorced for five years and had somehow turned it into a superpower instead of a shameful secret whispered at PTA meetings.

They'd bonded over terrible office coffee and the shared experience of rebuilding lives that had been demolished by men who'd promised forever and delivered 'I need to find myself.'

Renee leaned forward, mischievous grin already in place. 'Okay, real talk. When are you going to start dating again?'

Simone laughed—that automatic, deflecting laugh she'd perfected over two years of this exact question. 'Girl, I don't have time for that.'

"You always say that." Renee stirred her iced tea with more force than necessary. "But what do you even do with your free time? When the girls are with Marcus, what do you do?"

Simone opened her mouth to answer.

And then… nothing.

Her mind went blank. Completely, terrifyingly blank.

She tried again, scrambling for something, anything that sounded like a life.

"I… I catch up on stuff. You know. Laundry. Errands. I—"

Renee raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Simone. You do laundry on your free weekends? The weekends when you don't have your kids and could literally do anything you want?"

"Well, I mean… it has to get done." "But what do you do for you?"

Simone stared down at her salad. The kale looked wilted. Or maybe everything just looked gray today.

She had no answer. Because the truth—the truth she'd been running from for two years—was that when the girls were gone and the house was quiet, Simone didn't know what to do with herself.

She'd scroll through her phone, watching other people's lives unfold in carefully curated squares. She'd clean things that didn't need cleaning—wiping down counters that were already spotless, reorganizing drawers that were already organized. She'd watch TV shows she didn't care about just to fill the silence with voices that weren't her own thoughts.

And when Monday came—when the alarm went off and it was time to be Mom again, Employee again, Productive Member of Society again—she'd feel

relieved.

Because at least when she was busy, she didn't have to face the emptiness. At least when people needed her, she had a reason to exist.

Renee's voice pulled her back. "Simone?"

"I don't know." The words came out barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I do for me. I don't… I don't think I do anything for me."

Renee's expression softened. 'When's the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Not because someone asked. Not because it needed to be done. Just because it made you happy?'

Simone's throat tightened. Her eyes burned.

She couldn't remember.

The Mirror Doesn't Lie

That night, after the girls were asleep—Maya sprawled like a starfish in her twin bed, Jasmine's door closed with that 'DO NOT DISTURB' energy that only 13-year-olds can project—Simone stood in front of her bedroom mirror again.

This time, she wasn't putting on makeup. She was just… looking. Really looking.

Who are you?

The question sat heavy in her chest, pressing down like a stone.

She used to love dancing. Used to put on Destiny's Child and dance around her college apartment like nobody was watching because nobody was watching. Used to feel the music in her bones and let her body move however it wanted. When was the last time she'd danced?

She used to stay up late reading novels. The kind with broken spines and dog-eared pages. The kind that made her forget to eat dinner because she couldn't put them down. Toni Morrison. Alice Walker. Octavia Butler's worlds that felt more real than her own.

When was the last time she'd read something that wasn't a school permission slip or a work email?

She used to have opinions about things. Strong ones. She'd argue passionately about politics, about art, about which pizza place had the best crust. She'd laugh loud and long. She'd take up space without apologizing for it.

When did she become so quiet?

Somewhere along the way—slowly, imperceptibly, like the ocean wearing down a stone—she'd learned to make herself smaller. Quieter. Easier.

Marcus had always been the loud one. The one with big ideas and big plans and a voice that filled every room he entered. And Simone? She'd been the supportive one. The one who adjusted. The one who smiled and nodded and said, 'Whatever you think is best, baby.'

Even now—two years after the divorce, two years after he'd chosen someone else, someone younger, someone who hadn't sacrificed her body to carry his children—she was still doing it.

Still saying yes when she wanted to say no.

Still putting everyone else first.

Still disappearing a little more every day.

And the worst part—the part that made tears finally spill over and track mascara down her cheeks—was that she didn't even know how to stop.

She'd been performing the role of Simone for so long, she'd forgotten there was a real person underneath. Or maybe—and this was the thought that terrified her most—maybe there wasn't anything underneath anymore.

Maybe she'd given away so many pieces of herself over the years that nothing remained. Maybe she was just a collection of roles and responsibilities held together by obligation and fear.

The woman in the mirror stared back at her, mascara-streaked and hollow-eyed, and Simone didn't recognize her.

But for the first time in two years—maybe in fifteen years—she wanted to.

Nyomi's Take: When You've Lost Yourself

If you're reading Simone's story and feeling a knot in your stomach, you're not alone.

If you're crying—actually crying—over a woman standing in front of a mirror asking herself who she is, I need you to know: You're not being dramatic. You're recognizing yourself in her story.

So many women—especially after divorce, after kids, after years of being everyone's everything—wake up one day and realize they don't recognize themselves anymore. Can I be honest I stood in front of that very mirror myself. And here's what I want you to know:

That feeling? It's not weakness. It's awareness. And awareness is the first step to change.

Why We Lose Ourselves (And Why It's Not Your Fault)

Let's get real about what's actually happening here.

1. We're Taught to Be Caretakers

From a young age, many women—especially Black women—are conditioned to prioritize everyone else's needs over their own. We're praised for being selfless. Nurturing. Accommodating. The strong ones who hold it all together.

And while there's nothing wrong with caring for others, the problem comes when we do it at the

expense of ourselves.

We become so good at caretaking that we forget we also need care. We become so practiced at filling everyone else's cup that we don't notice ours has been empty for years.

2. Relationships Can Become All-Consuming

When you're in a long-term relationship—especially one where you're constantly adapting to keep the peace, constantly adjusting to make things easier, constantly shrinking to make room for someone else's ego—you can lose touch with your own preferences, desires, and identity.

You stop asking, 'What do I want?' and start asking, 'What does he want? What will make this easier? What will keep things calm?'

And every time you choose ease over authenticity, you lose a little more of yourself.

3. Divorce Doesn't Automatically Bring Clarity

A lot of people think that once they leave an unhappy marriage, they'll immediately feel free and empowered. Like somehow the divorce decree comes with a personality reset button.

But the truth is, after years of losing yourself, you don't just snap back. You have to actively rebuild. You have to excavate. You have to remember who you were before you became who everyone needed you to be.

And that can feel overwhelming—especially when you're also managing kids, finances, co-parenting drama, and the judgment of people who think you should just 'move on already.'

The Signs You've Lost Yourself

Not sure if this applies to you? Here are some signs:

•        You can't remember the last time you did something just because you wanted to

•        You feel guilty when you prioritize your own needs

•        You don't know what you like anymore (music, hobbies, food, etc.)

•        You fill your free time with chores or distractions to avoid being alone with your thoughts

•        You say "I'm fine" when you're absolutely not fine

•        You've become a supporting character in your own life

•        You feel empty, even when you're "doing everything right"

•        You don't recognize the woman in the mirror

If you checked more than a few of these, keep reading. Because what comes next is going to change everything.

How to Start Finding Yourself Again

Step 1: Give Yourself Permission to Be a Beginner

You don't have to have it all figured out right now. You don't have to wake up tomorrow knowing exactly who you are and what you want.

You're allowed to not know. You're allowed to try things and decide they're not for you. You're allowed to be messy and uncertain and confused.

This is a process, not a performance.

Step 2: Ask Yourself Small Questions

Start simple. You don't need to figure out your life's purpose on Day 1. Try asking yourself:

•        What's one thing I used to love doing?

•        What's one thing I've always been curious about?

•        If I had a free Saturday with no obligations, what would I want to do (not what I

        should do)?

•        What makes me feel alive, even just a little bit?

Write down your answers. Don't judge them. Just notice.

Step 3: Reclaim One Small Thing

Pick one thing that used to bring you joy and bring it back into your life. Just one thing.

Maybe it's:

•        Playing music you love (not kid-friendly playlists—

•        your

•         music)

•        Reading for pleasure

•        Taking a walk alone

•        Cooking a meal you actually want to eat

•        Dancing in your living room with the curtains closed

It doesn't have to be big. It just has to be

yours.

Step 4: Practice Saying "I Want"

This might sound simple, but for women who've spent years accommodating everyone else, it's revolutionary.

Start practicing:

"I want pizza tonight."

"I want to watch this show."

"I want to spend Saturday reading."

Even if no one's asking, say it out loud. Get used to hearing yourself claim your preferences. Get comfortable with the sound of your own desires taking up space.

Step 5: Set Boundaries Around Your Time

If you're filling every free moment with chores and obligations, you'll never have space to rediscover yourself.

Your free time is not 'extra' time. It's not 'bonus' time. It's

YOUR

 time.

Set one boundary this week:

•        "I'm taking Saturday morning for myself."

•        "I'm not answering work emails after 7 PM."

•        "I'm saying no to one thing I don't want to do."

Protect your time like it matters. Because it does.

Step 6: Get Comfortable with Discomfort

Here's the hard truth: Rediscovering yourself can feel awkward, lonely, and uncomfortable at first.

You might sit down to do something 'for you' and feel guilty. Or bored. Or like you're doing it wrong.

That's normal. That's your conditioning talking. That's fifteen years of putting everyone else first fighting back.

You're relearning how to be with yourself. It takes time. Push through the discomfort. It's worth it.

What Happened Next

That night, after standing in front of the mirror with mascara-streaked cheeks, Simone did something she hadn't done in years.

She pulled out an old journal from the back of her closet. The one with the purple cover she'd bought in college, back when she still thought she'd be a writer someday. Back when she still thought about what

she

 wanted instead of what everyone else needed.

The pages were yellowed. The last entry was dated 2008. Seventeen years ago. A lifetime ago.

She turned to a blank page and wrote:

"I don't know who I am anymore. But I want to find out. I have to find out. Because I can't keep living like this—like a ghost haunting my own life. My daughters are watching. What am I teaching them? That woman disappears. That mothers don't matter? That you give and give until there's nothing left?"

She paused, pen hovering over the page.

Then she wrote one more line:

"Tomorrow, I start saying no."

She had no idea how prophetic those words would be.

Because the next morning, her phone would light up with a text from Marcus. A text that would force her to choose between keeping the peace and keeping herself.

And for the first time in fifteen years, Simone was going to choose herself.

Even if it meant everything would fall apart.

In Episode 2: "The Breaking Point," Marcus asks Simone for a favor. Just a small one. A weekend swap. No big deal. But when Simone discovers why he really needed that weekend—and realizes he's been lying to her face—something inside her finally breaks. And this time, she's not putting it back together the same way.

The question is: What happens when a woman who's spent her entire life saying yes finally learns to say no?

Reflection Questions

Take a moment to honestly answer these. No one's watching. No one's judging. Just you and the truth.

1.     Do you recognize the woman in the mirror?

2.     When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?

3.     What parts of yourself have you lost while caring for everyone else?

4.     If you had a free weekend with no obligations, what would you want to do?

5.     What would it feel like to say 'I want' without apologizing?

Related Resources:

•Free Resources to Help You Rediscover Yourself

📥 Download: The Self-Discovery Starter Kit - Questions, prompts, and exercises to help you reconnect with who you are

The_Self_Discovery_Starter_Kit.pdf

Download PDF • 21.03MB

🎧 Listen: Talk To Me Tuesday Episode 1- "Healing After Divorce" - Nyomi answers a listener's letter about rebuilding after divorce

📥 Download: The Self-Care Checklist for Co-Parents - Daily, weekly, and monthly practices to protect your peace

Co-Parenting_Communication_Tool_Kit (1).pdf

Download PDF • 34.87MB

Join the Conversation

Have you ever looked in the mirror and not recognized yourself? What moment made you realize you'd lost yourself? Share your story in the comments below—your experience might help someone else feel less alone.

And if Simone's story resonates with you, subscribe to our newsletter to get notified when Episode 2 drops, plus exclusive resources for women reclaiming their lives.

Remember: You are not just a mother, a wife, an employee, a daughter. You are a whole person. And it's not selfish to remember that. It's survival.

Always Keep It So Sexy,

Nyomi

Tags: #AskHer #SimonesJourney #LostMyself #IdentityCrisis #DivorcedMom #RediscoveringMe #SelfDiscovery #WomenAndIdentity #LifeAfterDivorce

This is a fictional character story created for educational and entertainment purposes. Simone's journey is designed to help real women navigate similar challenge