It was laundry day. Again.
I was speed-folding towels while dodging toddler projectiles and reminding myself to drink water (for the third time that hour). Somewhere in the chaos, I pulled out my favorite pair of fuzzy socks, except it wasn’t a pair. It was just one. One lonely, pastel-striped, slightly ridiculous sock.
I searched everywhere for its match. Dug through the dryer, reopened the washer, shook out every towel like it owed me something. Nothing.
And I just stood there holding this sad little sock and thought… yep. That’s me.
Worn thin. Missing my match. Not where I belong. Forgotten at the bottom of the pile.
And then I laughed. And then I cried. Because honestly? That sock hit harder than it should’ve.
The Lost Sock Mom
I call her the Lost Sock Mom. You might know her.
She’s doing all the things. Keeping the humans alive. Showing up for everyone else. Folding the damn laundry.
But she doesn’t feel like a full person. She feels like a supporting character in someone else’s life. A background presence. A ghost of the woman she used to be.
She used to be creative. Spontaneous. Weird in the best way. But now? She’s lucky if she remembers what day it is, let alone what used to light her up.
The Lost Sock Mom isn’t a failure. She’s not broken. She’s just tired. Lonely. Overlooked. And completely disconnected from herself.
The Messages That Keep Us Stuck
This part’s important. Because what keeps us stuck in lost sock energy isn’t a lack of time. Or effort. Or motivation.
It’s the invisible scripts we’ve absorbed... over years, decades, generations... that tell us:
“A good mom sacrifices.”
“If you're overwhelmed, you're weak.”
“Needing help means you're failing.”
“You chose this—so don’t complain.”
“Your value is in what you do for others.”
Maybe you didn’t hear those exact words out loud.
Maybe it was the way your mom never sat down.
Or the way people praised you for being so selfless during postpartum.
Or how Instagram sells you “balance” but shows you women who’ve outsourced everything to get it.
Maybe it’s that quiet voice that says, “Don’t be dramatic. Other moms have it worse.”
You internalize it. You adapt. You shrink. You stop asking. You stop wanting.
Until one day, you’re holding a fuzzy sock and realizing:
“I don’t even know what I like anymore.”
And listen, it’s not your fault.
These messages are sticky. Sneaky. Soaked into the fabric of our motherhood culture.
They want you small. Smiling. Busy. Self-erasing.
But you? You were never meant to be a ghost in your own story.
Meet the Cozy Slipper Mom
Now let me introduce you to someone else: the Cozy Slipper Mom.
She’s not perfect. She still forgets appointments and reheats her coffee three times. But she knows who she is.
She doesn’t strive for gold stars. She makes decisions from a grounded place—not guilt. She wears softness like armor. She says no without spiraling. She says yes to things that light her up.
She isn’t chasing balance. She’s choosing boundaries.
She rests. She plays. She doesn’t apologize for being a full, feeling, deserving person.
And the best part? She isn’t someone else.
She’s you, just with a little more room to breathe.
So How Do You Shift?
Here's the part I need you to hear: You don’t need a five-step plan or a personality overhaul.
You don’t need to wait until the kids are older or the house is clean or your to-do list is done.
You need tiny, consistent, cozy shifts.
✨ Say “I need a break” and actually take one, with no explanation.
✨ Put on music from your high school days and dance while you make dinner.
✨ Wrap up in a blanket and drink something hot. Not because it’s practical, but because it’s nice.
✨ Light a candle during breakfast and pretend you're in a café in Paris instead of your crumb-covered kitchen.
✨ Write a love letter to your pre-mom self. Thank her. Honor her.
Because you're not a lost sock. You're a whole damn woman who’s been buried under the weight of expectations, guilt, and a million invisible tasks. You're still in there. Still soft. Still steady. Still worthy of warmth.
Let’s Start the Shift
If any of this hit you in the gut, I made a podcast episode just for you. It's called Lost Sock vs. Cozy Slipper, and it’s one of the most personal, honest things I’ve shared.
Because I’ve been the lost sock mom. And I’ve slowly, gently, cozily found my way back.
You’re not lost. You’re just a little misplaced. Let’s help you find your match again.
Lost Sock vs. Cozy Slipper
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[00:00:00] Have you ever felt like a lost sock? Hear me out. Okay. You're misplaced in the chaos of motherhood. Worn thin, forgotten at the bottom of the laundry basket of life. I've been there. But what if there's another version of you, one that feels like a cozy slipper, steady, soft, deeply at home in herself.
In today's episode, we're diving into these two motherhood personas, the lost Sock mom and the Cozy Slipper mom, and how we begin the journey from one to the other.
so let me tell you about this sock. It was laundry day. Again. And I was speed folding between feeding the baby and dodging whatever the toddler was throwing at me and reminding someone, probably myself to drink water.
I pulled a pair of little socks out of the dryer and then another random baby sock, and then I reached in and found mine. But there was just one of them, my one lone, cozy, fuzzy sock. It was my favorite pair of socks at the time. They were those kinds that were soft [00:01:00] and thick and slightly ridiculous with pastel stripes. I looked for its match. I shook out every towel, checked the bottom of the dryer, and even opened the washer again just to make sure it like wasn't stuck at the top when it spins around.
But it was gone. Just gone. And I stood there in the laundry room holding this sad little sock and thought, yep. That's me. I am this sock worn Thin, missing my match, not where I belong. Forgotten. I laughed, but then I cried because it hit me that I'd been feeling that way for a few months now, like I was at the bottom of the pile.
Like my needs, my identity, my me-ness had gone missing somewhere between the diaper changes and everything else.
And what made it worse was I was doing all the right things. At least I thought I was.
I was making the meals, I was keeping the house in a livable condition. [00:02:00] I was showing up for my kids every single day, being their default person for everything. But for myself, I didn't even feel like I was a full person. I felt like I was a supporting character in someone else's life. Before I had kids, I was always doing something creative.
I was trying new, weird hobbies, running trivia nights over planning birthday parties, just because it made me feel alive and I really enjoyed it. But that part of me had been missing for a while, and holding that sock made me realize that I missed her. I missed me. So I've come to give that version of myself a name.
The Lost Sock Mom. She feels misplaced. Like she doesn't quite fit anymore. Like she used to be part of a set connected whole, but now she's just floating around tired and overlooked. She gives and gives, but no one really sees her, not the real her, not the woman or, or the sock, right beneath the [00:03:00] mom title.
She doesn't even know what she likes anymore. She can't remember the last time she did something just for herself, and when she tries, the guilt rushes in fast. Like, shouldn't you be folding more laundry?
Here's what the lost sock mom looks like in the wild. She stands in the pantry eating chocolate chips, not because she's hungry, but because it's the only quiet space. She gets texts from friends but doesn't respond, not because she doesn't care, but because she doesn't have the energy to hold a conversation.
She stares at the clock during bedtime, like it's the finish line of a marathon, and when it's finally quiet, she scrolls until her eyes hurt. And maybe she looks put together on the outside. Maybe she's the one organizing the snacks or remembering all the birthdays, but inside she's wondering when she gets to matter.
Lost sock mom isn't broken. She's just exhausted and disoriented and a little lonely and a lot unheard.
Part of why it's so hard to [00:04:00] climb out of lost sock mom mode is because the messages we've absorbed quietly over time.
Society says a good mom sacrifices everything, and Instagram says, balance it all and make it look effortless. Your mom's generation might've said, we didn't complain, we just did it. So we absorb those messages. If I'm overwhelmed, it's because I'm not strong enough.
If I want time for me. I'm being selfish. If I can't manage it all with a smile, I'm doing it wrong. But I wanna flip those scripts with you. A good mom is a whole woman. Her needs matter. Balance isn't a badge, it's a boundary. You don't have to mother the way anyone else did you get to write a new story.
Let's stop trying to cram ourselves into someone else's version of motherhood. You get to define what being a good mom and a full person means to you.
Nobody gets to tell you that, not even me. Now [00:05:00] let's meet the cozy slipper mom. She's not perfect. She still forgets appointments and reheats her coffee three times, but she knows who she is. She brings warmth and steadiness, not just to her kids or her partner, but to herself. She makes decisions from a grounded place, not just from obligation.
She says no when she needs to. She says yes to things that light her up. She rests without guilt. She plays. She wears clothes that feel good on her body. She listens to her instincts.
Cozy slipper mom is treasured for who she is, not just what she does. Let me tell you about one of the first times I ever felt like her. I told my husband, I need tonight just for me. No errands, no tasks. I got in the car. I went to the bookstore. I bought a cup of tea. I didn't have to share it with anybody, and I sat in the corner reading a magazine, not even a book, I just grabbed a magazine, not for productivity, just for pleasure, just for something to [00:06:00] do, and I came home feeling soft and centered and cozy.
That's her. That's the vibe, not about doing more. But about doing what matters. And you get there not by overhauling your life, but by making tiny shifts. So how do you start moving from lost sock to cozy slipper? Well first, you don't have to fix everything or anything.
You don't need a three month plan. You need to come home to yourself gently, slowly, and consistently.
Try this, say I need a break, and take it without explaining yourself. Revisit something you loved before motherhood and go way back. If you have to go back to when you were a teenager,
journal about who you were, who you are, and who you're becoming. Put on music from your high school days and dance while making dinner. Doing these small things. You begin to shift by noticing and then honoring, and then experimenting. And then trusting. You [00:07:00] shift by believing that you are still in there.
You're not lost, you're just a little misplaced and maybe you're matching sock got chewed up by the dryer of motherhood. But that doesn't mean you're incomplete. Maybe you just need a new kind of match, one that fits who you're becoming.
You don't have to become cozy slipper mom today, but what if you could feel just 1% cozier? Here are a few ways to do that. Wrap up in a blanket and drink something hot just because light a candle during breakfast and pretend you're at a little cafe. Sit in the car for five minutes after errands and breathe before going inside.
Write a love letter to your premo self. Thank her. Honor her. Text a friend just to say, I miss you. How are you? Really? Say out loud. I deserve rest, even if the house is messy. Little moments have big impact. This isn't about adding more to your plate, it's about feeding your soul with what's already possible.
So today I [00:08:00] want you to check in with yourself. Are you a lost sock mom right now? Do you feel forgotten at the bottom of the pile? Do you feel missing? Do you miss feeling like you? Then hear this? You're not alone. You're not broken. And you do not have to stay there. The journey to cozy slipper Mom isn't about becoming someone new.
It's about coming home to the you that's been waiting. You're allowed to feel cozy in your own life. You're allowed to be soft and steady. You're allowed to be chosen by others. Yes, but especially by you. You are an amazing mom just as you are.
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I'd Love for you to let me know your favorite part, either through the reviews and comments, or by DMing me on Instagram at Mom Identity Project. I can't wait to hear [00:09:00] from you.
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Mom Identity Project is here to make motherhood less lonely and help you find joy in being you again. Through the podcast, Mom’s Guide to Finding Herself, group challenges, short guides, and coaching, Krissy Bold is here to help you through this phase of motherhood.