5 Ways I’m Reparenting Myself in Adulthood
Adulthood has been a crash course in doing things for myself that I didn’t even realize I needed as a kid. It’s not about blaming my parents—they loved me the best way they knew how—but about acknowledging the gaps and learning how to fill them in ways that support my emotional and mental well-being.
This process of reparenting looks different for everyone. For me, it’s been a slow (and sometimes uncomfortable) journey of building habits, choosing healthier relationships, and showing up for myself in ways I used to wish someone else would. These are five areas where I’ve been doing the work.
1. Creating Routines That Help Me Feel Safe
These days, routines and schedules are how I keep myself grounded. I crave structure—not in a strict, militant way, but in a way that brings me balance and peace. Growing up, life was pretty hectic. I lived in a house with four older sisters and two hard-working parents who were always juggling multiple jobs. They made sure we were involved in activities (which definitely helped keep us busy), but with that came a very full schedule.
But here’s what I’ve realized: a schedule and a routine aren’t the same thing. Back then, my days were packed—school, dance, work once I hit high school—but I didn’t really have much consistency beyond that. Schedules tell you what to do and when, but routines create rhythm. They're the little habits that help you feel safe and in control when everything else feels chaotic.
Having a morning routine—waking up around the same time, brushing my teeth, having my coffee, stretching—might seem small, but it changes the tone of my whole day. It’s the difference between starting the day feeling grounded versus scrambling to catch up.
Oddly enough, weekends used to be the hardest for me. With no real structure, I’d end up feeling off-balance and anxious. So, I started building in some light structure—blocking time for the gym, grocery runs, cleaning, lesson planning, and social time. It’s not about being “productive” every second; it’s about creating a sense of calm and predictability that makes me feel safe in my own life.
2. Setting (and Enforcing) Boundaries
Whew—this one’s been a journey. You’d think setting boundaries would come naturally to me. I’ve always been the “say it like it is” type. I speak up. I advocate for myself and for others. I’m not afraid to express emotions or call something out when it feels wrong. So yeah, you'd assume I’d be a pro at boundaries.
Spoiler alert: I wasn’t.
For the longest time, I didn’t even know what my personal boundaries were. And that’s not as weird as it sounds. I didn’t realize how deeply I valued open, honest communication in my relationships. I didn’t know which topics made me feel small or unsafe. I couldn’t identify the things I was actually sensitive about—because I was so used to brushing them off.
And even when I did start recognizing my limits, enforcing them felt... scary. Like, “Who am I to demand this level of respect?”
The answer? I’m a human being. That’s who.
It took a lot of unlearning to get to that mindset. I had to remind myself—over and over—that I’m allowed to take up space. That it’s not selfish to speak up about what I need. And here’s the surprising part: the people who truly love me? They wanted to respect my boundaries. Just like I wanted to respect theirs.
I used to worry I was being “too much” for having needs. But then I realized—has anyone ever been “too much” for me just because they asked for honesty, consistency, or emotional safety? No. So why was I holding myself to a different standard?
Learning how to set and enforce boundaries has been one of the most powerful ways I’ve reparented myself. It’s not about pushing people away—it’s about inviting the right people closer with clarity and care.
3. Choosing People Who Feel Safe
This is one I’m still figuring out, honestly. I’ve always felt like I had a good read on people—I can usually tell if someone is kind, trustworthy, and has values that align with mine. But just because someone is a good person doesn’t necessarily mean they feel safe. That’s something I’m just now starting to understand.
Feeling safe with someone isn’t just about trust—it’s about emotional comfort. It’s about being around people who don’t drain you, judge you, or make you feel like you have to shrink yourself to be accepted. And that kind of safety shows up in all kinds of relationships, not just romantic ones. I’ve found it in friendships, coworkers, mentors—and even people I didn’t expect to connect with at all.
My best friend and I have known each other our whole lives. We talk maybe three times a month and live 800 miles apart, but she still feels like home to me. That deep comfort, that unconditional love—it’s rare. But I’ve also found that same sense of safety in smaller, everyday interactions.
The owner of the dance studio I work at? She’s one of the warmest people I know. She slaps my hand when I crack my knuckles and tells me what I need to hear, not just what I want to hear. She's honest, direct, and kind—someone I feel totally at ease around.
There’s also the ballet teacher at the studio—she’s in her 70s and mostly speaks Spanish (which I don’t speak at all), but she hugs me every Tuesday and asks if I’ve eaten that day. Her care crosses any language barrier, and that’s what makes her feel safe to me.
Then there’s my best friend here in Florida. We actually didn’t like each other at first. But one night, we sat in her car and opened up about everything—childhood, family, mental health, relationships, all of it. After that conversation, something shifted. We became roommates, and eventually, she became one of the people I feel most secure around.
All of these people, in their own ways, feel like home. And I’m realizing that’s the feeling to look for—not just shared interests or good vibes, but real, honest safety. That’s what makes a relationship sustainable. That’s what makes healing possible.
4. Overcoming Unhealthy Eating Habits
This one’s a little tougher to talk about—and it might be for some of you reading this, too. I could honestly write a whole post about my relationship with food: the body image struggles, anxiety, and disordered eating patterns I’ve had to work through. But this section isn’t really about that. It’s more about the everyday stuff—the basics I never really learned.
When I first moved out on my own, I realized how much I didn’t know about actually feeding myself. Sure, I knew how to cook. I could season things, throw together a decent meal here and there. But I didn’t know how to build balanced meals or portion them in a way that supported me day to day. I didn’t know how to eat consistently, or how to plan meals in a way that didn’t leave me hungry, tired, or scrambling at the last minute.
I relied on takeout a lot. Like—a lot. It felt easier and quicker, especially with my busy schedule. But over time, it started to affect my energy, my budget, and my mental health. I’d either forget to eat or binge when I was overly hungry. There was no rhythm, no consistency.
Eventually, I started experimenting with meal prepping. Nothing fancy—just some simple, balanced meals I could grab throughout the week. And honestly? It changed everything. Knowing I had food ready to go took so much stress off my plate (pun intended). I wasn’t skipping meals as much, and I felt more in control of my day.
Meal prepping helped me get into a groove—three meals, a couple snacks, and a lot more awareness about what my body actually needs. I’m still learning, but giving myself the structure and support I never had around food has been a huge part of reparenting myself.
5. Soothing My Anxiety, Not Just Ignoring It
I grew up in a very mental health-aware household. Everyone in my family had something going on—anxiety, depression, trauma—so I was exposed to emotional language and mental health conversations from a pretty young age. In a way, that helped me become emotionally intelligent early on, and now as an adult, I’m honestly grateful for that.
But awareness and healing aren’t the same thing.
Despite how much we talked about mental health, what we actually did was suppress it. Emotions were pushed down until someone eventually snapped. It always felt like we were walking on eggshells, waiting for the next outburst. So I learned to do the same—bottle things up, put on a calm face, and just keep pushing forward. I didn’t know how to soothe myself. I only knew how to mask it.
And that’s not really anyone’s fault. My parents and siblings were just doing what they knew how to do. But as I got older and moved out on my own, I realized I didn’t want to carry that pattern into adulthood. I didn’t want my anxiety to control me—or worse, go ignored until it exploded.
So I started doing the work. I began exploring what actually helps me on the days when my mental health feels like too much.
Writing has been one of the biggest tools for me. Whether it’s in a notebook or just the Notes app on my phone, writing helps me process and quiet the noise in my head. It’s something I can do anywhere, and it instantly helps me feel more grounded. (Though I’ll always prefer pen and paper when I can.)
I’ve also learned that physical things help a lot, too. Compression—like tight hugs, weighted blankets, or even wrapping myself in a blanket burrito—brings me back into my body. Hot showers are another go-to for me, especially when I feel foggy or disconnected. Little things, but they work.
Living alone has really forced me to face my anxiety without distraction. There’s no one around to soak it up for me, and in that quiet, I’ve had to learn how to be there for myself. Not by ignoring it, not by pushing through—but by listening and finding what actually helps me feel safe again.
Final Thoughts
Reparenting isn’t a destination—it’s a slow, ongoing process of learning how to care for yourself in the ways you needed then and still need now. It’s about offering yourself structure, softness, patience, and protection. Some days I feel like I’m nailing it, and other days I’m just doing my best to show up.
But that’s the point, right? Not perfection—just progress. Just presence. And maybe that’s the most healing thing of all.
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