You did not disappear. You were rearranged.Somewhere in the first year, people stopped asking how you were. You became Mom at daycare pickup. The mother of the one in the yellow coat. A name written into a box that was much wider than three letters.You are functioning. You are loved. And somewhere underneath it, you have been quietly looking for yourself for months, in the one place she was never going to be - the mirror.This is not a book about getting your old self back. She was never lost.100 truths, one to a page, written for the four minutes you actually have. About the name nobody says anymore. The four thousand photographs you are in nine of. The jeans on the second shelf you have moved twice and never tried on. The eight minutes in the parked car before you go inside.About the things you have thought and never said out loud - and what it does to a woman when somebody finally says them first.What this book will not do: No plan. No thirty days. No routine to fall behind on. No version of you waiting at the end to be unlocked. You are not a project.Written for the woman three months to three years in. Open it anywhere, read one thing, close it. You are not behind.She's still in there. She always was.A gift for a new mother, a second-time mother, or the friend who keeps saying she's fine.
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