From Survival to Purpose

         I lived to survive. For years, that was my mantra. Every morning, I woke up with a sense of obligation heavier than any dream. I had bills to pay, mouths to feed, and a life that demanded I be strong, always. Survival wasn’t glamorous—it was raw, repetitive, and exhausting—but it was all I knew.

        When I first met my husband, life seemed to have a rhythm I could understand. We started as colleagues in a small family-run business. He was confident, decisive, and full of ambition. I was careful, eager to learn, and grateful for the opportunity. The work was demanding, yet in those early days, I found satisfaction in being useful, in knowing that my presence mattered. I thought this was the life I was supposed to have—safe, structured, predictable.

        But life, as it often does, had a different plan. Slowly, I realized that surviving day-to-day was not the same as living with intention. I was present physically, but my spirit felt quietly restless. There were moments when I would look at my reflection in the mirror, tired eyes staring back at me, and wonder: Is this it? Is this really all there is?

        Motherhood arrived like both a miracle and a storm. The first months were the hardest. Sleepless nights, endless feedings, the constant hum of worry—I learned quickly that survival took on a new meaning. It wasn’t just about paying bills anymore. It was about keeping someone else alive, keeping their needs above your own, and forgetting yourself in ways that society tells you are noble, expected, required.

         I remember one night, rocking my baby to sleep, tears silently streaming down my cheeks. I felt small, invisible, and completely depleted. I was surviving—but for whom? For what? It felt like the world had given me a title without a purpose. I was “Mom,” but I had lost the essence of who I was. And yet, even in those moments of darkness, there was a whisper inside me, a quiet question: What if I didn’t just survive? What if there’s something more for me?

That question became the seed of change.

        I started noticing small moments that stirred me—reading a book while my baby napped, journaling late at night, reflecting on dreams I had shelved long ago. Each moment reminded me that I was still more than survival. I had talents, insights, and passions that had been waiting patiently, like seeds under the soil, ready to sprout if only I gave them light.

Work-life balance was a battlefield. On one hand, I was a wife, a mother, and an employee; on the other, I was slowly awakening to the woman I wanted to be—purpose-driven, intentional, visible. It wasn’t easy to prioritize myself. Guilt became a constant companion. But over time, I realized that giving myself attention wasn’t selfish. In fact, it was necessary. A mom who survives alone is tired. A mom who lives with purpose is unstoppable.

I began to take small steps toward purpose. I enrolled in online courses to sharpen my skills. I connected with other moms who were navigating similar paths, sharing stories, advice, and encouragement. I started a journal called Her Story Unfolds, chronicling not just the challenges, but the victories, the lessons, and the growth. Writing became my therapy, my anchor, my way of answering the silent call that had been whispering for years.

Purpose, I discovered, doesn’t always arrive in a dramatic flash of light. Sometimes it is quiet, almost imperceptible, nudging you through choices and actions. It’s in the courage to say “no” to what drains you and “yes” to what nourishes you. It’s in the decision to spend twenty minutes exercising, reading, or reflecting when the world expects you to be endlessly giving. It’s in the recognition that your story, no matter how ordinary it may seem, can be extraordinary when you choose to live it intentionally.

         There were setbacks. Many of them. Moments when survival felt safer than purpose. Times when I questioned whether I had the strength to keep pursuing what felt like a distant dream. But each time, I reminded myself: survival taught me resilience; purpose taught me direction. Without surviving, I wouldn’t have had the grit to face challenges. Without pursuing purpose, all that survival would have been wasted energy.

I also learned that purpose doesn’t have to be monumental to be meaningful. Helping another mom through a difficult day, sharing a tip that saves time, offering encouragement—it all counts. Purpose is woven into the fabric of everyday life, not just in grand gestures or career achievements.

          Financial independence became one of my first tangible goals. I wanted to ensure that survival never again dictated my choices. I took control of my finances, created a plan, and slowly built a cushion that gave me freedom. Each small step—tracking expenses, saving a little each month, learning about investments—became an act of reclaiming control. It was empowering to realize that I could provide for my family while also providing for myself.

         Through all of this, motherhood remained the heartbeat of my journey. I learned that being present, intentional, and mindful shaped my children’s understanding of life more than any rule or routine ever could. They witnessed resilience, courage, and purpose firsthand. And in return, they taught me patience, joy, and the beauty of simple moments. Survival was about getting through the day. Purpose was about creating a life worth living and sharing it with those I loved most.

         Now, when I look back at the years of surviving, I see them not as wasted, but as necessary preparation. The late nights, the exhaustion, the doubts—they were the soil in which my sense of purpose took root. Without surviving, I would not have learned the value of each moment, each choice, each lesson. And without purpose, survival would have been hollow, an endless loop without meaning.

         Today, I wake up differently. I wake up with intention, with clarity, with gratitude. I live not just to meet the demands of life, but to answer the calling that whispers to me every morning. That calling may look different for every mom—some pursue a career, some nurture a passion, some simply find ways to infuse meaning into daily life—but the essence is the same: living fully, intentionally, and courageously.

          I still face challenges. Life is not perfect, and motherhood is not easy. But now, I navigate it with a sense of purpose that guides me beyond mere survival. I have discovered that survival is the first chapter, but purpose is the story worth telling.

I lived to survive, but deep inside, my purpose was calling. Survival taught me resilience. Purpose taught me direction. Every challenge, every sleepless night, every moment of doubt became a stepping stone toward the life I am now creating—one filled with intention, growth, and meaning.

          To every mom reading this: your story matters. The days may feel heavy, the nights may feel endless, and the responsibilities may seem unrelenting—but within you is a quiet, steady calling. Listen to it. Nurture it. Trust it. Survival brought you here. Purpose will carry you forward. And when you answer that calling, you don’t just live—you thrive.

Your life, your story, your purpose is waiting. Step into it today.

Prossy Legacy