I haven’t known Christie for too terribly long, but as soon as I met her, I knew that she was special. She greets you with the most incredible smile and you instantly feel her warmth. She’s just one of those people who is genuinely interested in you and how you’re doing when she asks. As a licensed mental health therapist, I knew she’d be a great one to give an honest, insight into our journal project. Read on for Christie’s entry on promise and identity.

Once upon a time, in a land only moderately far away, I was a young woman on top of my game. The present felt golden; my future held so much promise. I was a fresh-faced young adult living on my own, excitedly forging my path ahead. I was social, intelligent, confident, accomplished, fashionable, fit. I knew who I was. I was on my way up.

Someday soon I hoped to be a professional, a wife and a mother.

And my future found me. All the promise of my younger life had unfolded itself from its cocoon, and spread its butterfly wings infused with magic.

I graduated college and graduate school, and moved to the city where I wanted to set roots: a land in the sun set between ocean, desert and mountain. I met the man of my dreams who made me laugh, made my heart flutter, made my world a better place. A man whom I loved deeply, and who loved me in equal measure. We promised our lives to each other and we promised to grow, as a couple and a family. We bought a quaint and cozy home and we made it our own. Our future hopes became present happenings as we became parents. The vision of our family was now complete with our two young children alongside.

I had done it; promise kept. I was a licensed mental health therapist, a wife, a mother! And yet I felt a deep sadness. The wind left my sails. After the birth of my precious and perfect children, I awoke to myself as a different person. I didn’t know myself anymore. My identity shift to motherhood was much less “shift” and much more “giant earthquake.”

As the pictures of my previous life fell off the wall and smashed to the floor during the seismic event, I was jolted into the startling reality of not recognizing myself.

It took a little time and a lot of work, and I have been slowly awakening from the dense, dripping fog of postpartum anxiety and depression, though I cannot yet say I am completely free from its sticky grasp. It is not a quick recovery when, without warning, you find that you’ve lost who you once were. Where did I go? Will I ever see her again?

I searched; I am still searching. Branches of my personality have been bent, but my trunk, my soul, the core of who I am has remained intact. I was then and continue to be now love, warmth, hope, courage, strength. I am emotions and logic. I am past, present and future. I have promise.

A silver lining of this unexpected self-study after a dip into the darkness is that the only way is up—again. My future is still ahead of me. My marriage continues to be strong and satisfying. My children are incredible tiny humans who bring me immense joy. I have the power to determine what lies ahead. I am adjusting and learning to nurture who I am now and who I will continue to grow to be. The direction is less certain, and the experience is more complicated, but my life is promising, nonetheless. It is not “the end” to my life’s fairy tale just yet.

Christina Furnival is a stay-at-home mom, licensed mental health therapist (LPCC) and motherhood blogger for Real Life Mama. She lives in San Diego with her hottie hubby and two young children, where she spends her days wrangling the youngins, connecting with friends, singing at the top of her lungs, dreaming of adventures and writing to her heart’s content.

Real Life Mama is a mom blog with a therapist’s twist that candidly and openly explores real life and is relevant to all mamas. No topic is taboo. This is real life, mama, and it ain’t easy! Connect with Christina on Instagram.

Catch up on the rest of our journal series so far: Morgan Pansing On Grief, Bianca Wickers On Fear and Merrill Melideo On Truth.