Transparently Treanna

Everybody talks about setting boundaries.

Protect your peace.

Choose yourself.

Know your worth.

Okay.

But what happens after that?

Because nobody talks about that part.

Nobody talks about how some days you don’t want the boundary.

You want the person.

You want the conversation.

You want the version of them that existed before everything got complicated.

You want things to make sense.

You want it to stop hurting.

And then you have to remember why the boundary exists in the first place.

Whew😮‍💨

Because sometimes the healthiest thing for you is also the thing that breaks your heart.

And I think we’re so busy celebrating strength that we don’t leave enough room for grief.

Sometimes choosing yourself doesn’t feel empowering.

Sometimes it feels devastating.

Sometimes it feels lonely.

Sometimes it feels like you’re grieving someone who is still alive.

And that’s a different kind of heartbreak.

I don’t have a lesson.

I’m not on the other side of it.

I’m just sitting with the reality that two things can be true at the same time:

I can miss someone.

And still know I deserve more.

Motherhood with teenagers is giving Mad Max.

Five stars for personal growth.
Negative stars for peace.

Because nobody prepared me for the fact that one day my boys would become these almost-men with opinions, attitudes, and their own version of every story.

And why am I over here trying to communicate effectively while these almost-men are looking at me like, “Bro…”

Anyway…

Raising teenagers is teaching me three things about myself.

1. Shut the f**k up.

I always thought I was a good communicator.

And I am.

But what I’m realizing is that when I’m passionate about something, I can accidentally turn a conversation into a TED Talk.

I explain.
I elaborate.
I provide supporting evidence.
I circle back for clarification.

And meanwhile my teenager is just trying to tell me one thing.

I’m learning that communication isn’t always about having the right words.

Sometimes it’s about making enough space for someone else to find theirs.

2. Patience.

Whew.

Because not every conversation needs to happen right now.

Not every attitude needs to be corrected immediately.

Not every eye roll requires a response.

And as someone who likes to address things immediately, this lesson is beating my ass.

I’m learning to pause.

To breathe.

To walk away.

To come back when I’m less triggered and more productive.

Because sometimes the most mature thing I can do is not respond in the moment.

3. Let it go.

Not my kids.

The idea that motherhood is supposed to be my entire identity.

I was talking to one of my friends today about how deeply we love our children.

And we do.

But as my boys get older, I’m realizing they aren’t the only ones who are supposed to be growing.

I am too.

I still have things I want to explore.

Dreams I want to pursue.

Parts of myself I’m still discovering.

Because one day these almost-men are going to build lives of their own.

And when that day comes, I don’t want to be introducing myself to me for the first time.

I want to already know her.

If you’re raising teenagers, what’s this season of motherhood teaching you?

Because I swear these kids are committed to my personal growth. 😂

One thing I’ve been learning lately is that parenting older children is a completely different kind of motherhood.

When they were little, there seemed to be endless resources, advice, and milestones to prepare us for what was coming next.

But parenting older kids feels so much more nuanced.

They’re becoming their own people. They have opinions, perspectives, disappointments, and experiences that we can’t always protect them from or fix.

And sometimes, if I’m being honest, that’s both beautiful and heartbreaking.

So I’d love to hear from the moms in this community…

What’s something about parenting older children that nobody prepares you for?

Let’s talk about it. 💕

About ten years ago, I realized I was repeating patterns I grew up with.

Patterns of invalidation. Being too harsh. Not celebrating my kids the way they deserved.

I grew up believing children should be seen and not heard. That being “too much” was a bad thing. That my value came from helping, achieving, performing, fixing.

And I remember thinking… I don’t want my kids to grow up feeling the way I did.

So I’ve tried really hard to do things differently.

To be more conscious.
More intentional.
More emotionally available.

And honestly? Sometimes I think I overcorrect because I care so much.

But lately, it feels like no matter what I do, I’m wrong.

My son isn’t happy here.

He says he hates his school. That he’s bored. That I ruined his life. And the part that hurts the most is feeling like he blames me for our family changing.

As a mom, that does something to you.

Because one of my biggest fears has always been not being enough for my kids emotionally.

And I know parenting teenagers is complicated. I know transitions are hard. I know kids don’t always have the language yet for grief, anger, disappointment, or change.

But whew… some days this motherhood thing feels really heavy.

I think people talk a lot about motherhood when children are little.

But nobody really prepares you for the emotional complexity of parenting older kids while also trying to rebuild yourself at the same time.

And maybe that’s the season I’m in right now.

Trying.
Learning.
Loving hard.
Questioning myself.
Still showing up anyway.

If you’re parenting through a hard season right now — especially with older kids — how are you navigating it emotionally?

I feel like women don’t talk about this part nearly enough.

Motherhood teaches me so much about being a woman.

It teaches me that mothers deserve care, too.
That when women prioritize themselves — not instead of their children, but alongside them — everyone benefits. A cared-for mother can love, lead, nurture, and show up more fully.

It teaches me that my children and I are separate people with different wants, needs, personalities, and paths. And there is beauty in honoring that, even when it doesn’t look the way I imagined it would. Love is not ownership. Love is witnessing, guiding, and allowing people to become who they are.

Motherhood teaches me forgiveness.
Forgiving myself for the moments I fall short. Forgiving others. Learning accountability. Learning grace. Learning that being a good mother does not require perfection — it requires presence, honesty, and growth.

Most importantly, motherhood teaches me that the best way to raise good people is to model what that looks like in real time. To let my children see kindness, resilience, integrity, softness, boundaries, accountability, joy, and love lived out loud.

Today and every day, I’m especially grateful for the women who continue to pour into me — the mothers, aunties, sisters, friends, and village that encourage me, support me, protect me, inspire me, and remind me that motherhood was never meant to be done alone.

And especially my mother — the catalyst for so much of who I am. Without her, there is no me. I am forever grateful for the love, sacrifices, strength, and foundation she gave me.

Happy Mother’s Day to every woman loving, nurturing, guiding, healing, and growing through it all. 🤍

Arius said he didn’t like this shirt… so I wore it 😌

But bigger than that—
I’m learning not to force my preferences onto my child.

I don’t want to force him to like what I like.
I don’t want to control his style, his voice, or how he shows up.

Letting him explore, try, reject, and be…
to say, “nah, that’s not me,” without feeling bad about it.

And me? I’m learning how to guide without hovering…
to be there without putting him in a box.

Because confidence doesn’t come from being told who to be—
it comes from being free enough to figure it out.

…also, clearly I made it look better anyway 🤏🏾