Pageantry Gave Me the Wake-Up Call I Needed

As an Army wife, mother of five, teacher, and all-around do-it-all woman, I was no stranger to chaos. My days were a never-ending to-do list, and my nights were spent trying to plan how I’d survive the next one. For years, I wore every hat, held every role, and ran myself ragged trying to meet the demands of life. Because that’s what was expected of me. That’s what I expected of myself.

In the middle of the bustle, I fought an invisible battle…secondary infertility. I underwent two rounds of IVF. Let me tell you, when people say it messes with your hormones, that’s putting it lightly. The physical toll is only half the story. The emotional and mental strain and the heartbreak of pregnancy loss are scars you carry. Yet, life doesn’t stop for pain. I didn’t stop.

Even as burnout loomed like a shadow, I kept pushing. People needed me. I was the dependable one. The "you always get it done" person. When you exceed expectations once, it becomes your standard forever. There’s no room for a bad day, a misstep, or a breakdown. At least, that’s what I told myself.

When it was time for my family to move back to the States, I did it solo. My husband had to stay behind for a month. I managed the move, set up a new home, started a new job, and got everyone, except myself, settled. I was running on fumes, and yet I still didn’t stop. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

I felt myself unraveling. I could feel exhaustion pulling me down. And not the “I need a nap” kind of tired, but the “I might land in the hospital for five days” kind. I had nothing left. But still, I pushed on.

Then something unexpected happened: I found myself in pageantry.

In the midst of it all, I took on a local title and began preparing to compete at the state level. I know it sounds counterintuitive. One more thing, really? But this time, it was for me. It was my thing, and that made all the difference.

Through pageantry, I met extraordinary women—smart, successful, beautiful inside and out. At first, I felt like I didn’t belong. These women seemed flawless. They ran businesses, had calendars full of community obligations, raised families, showed up in full glam, and never appeared to break a sweat. But then we talked. We connected. What I learned knocked me upside my head: We were all feeling the same at some point.

Behind the perfect makeup and polished resumes, they were just like me. Sometimes exhausted, sometimes overwhelmed. Striving, surviving, and human.

That realization was my wake-up call.

I don’t have to do it all. I don’t have to be everything to everyone all the time. I’m allowed to say “No.” I’m allowed to take care of myself, and doing so isn’t selfish; it’s survival. It’s love.

Pageantry reminded me that I deserve space, grace, and stillness. That I can choose something for me, not because it checks a box or fulfills an obligation, but because it brings me joy.

So, this is your wake-up call, too, Sis. If you’re out there, pouring into everyone else and forgetting to refill your own cup, Stop. Pause. Hit the snooze button. Say No. Choose something unselfishly selfish, just for you.

When we take care of ourselves, we can show up better for the people we love. First, we have to believe we’re worth that care. You are. I am. We all are.

Love yourself enough to slow down. Find your pageant moment, whatever that looks like for you, and never look back.