who are you?

Who are you? I am a woman, a wife, a daughter, a best friend. I am an unsuccessful artist, an unpublished writer, a dreamer. A mom. Why does it feel like it stops right there with that word..mom. Your sweet baby comes screaming into your world and you suddenly absorb “mom” as yet another label and everything stops. You say and do things you claimed you never would. Your world becomes very small. You scream into a pillow in the darkest parts of the night, the parts no one wants to talk about, and wonder what the hell you got yourself into. Can you go back to the way it was? Do you want to?

You might sob on the couch because nothing has ever felt as terrifying as keeping another human being alive. How do you go back to work? How do you create? How do you ever do anything again other than feed the baby, change the baby and cry.

Eventually you start to do things again but you wonder if you will ever do anything right, why everything feels so difficult, and if you will ever find your place as anything other than a mom. Will you ever stop crying?

Time settles in. The days turn into weeks and those turn into months and then years. You are wrapped up inside your child’s eyes and twisted around their needs and wants.  Sometimes you feel as if your soul has drained out of you and become this giant puddle you keep slipping around in while you try to maintain your footing. You ferociously grab onto the moments of joy that sometimes seem few and far between. Those moments keep you from sinking completely.

One day, as suddenly as the mom fog fell down around you, the haze lifts a bit and you realize you have a little breathing room. Your child is growing and becoming their own little person. You might remember then, that you are more than a mom. You are a woman and a partner and a person too.

Maybe you feel like a crappy mom for even worrying about yourself at all in that moment. Are you selfish? Were our mothers and grandmothers so worried, so sad? Did the word mom feel very different when they tried it on decades ago? Maybe it was easier because they didn’t have other mom’s lives thrust in their faces for comparison.

Every screen screams at us with those glorious photo-shopped pictures of moms frolicking in nature, painting abstract art in perfectly lit photographs shot in weathered brick lofts with white couches. Moms drawing cute cartoons that exemplify motherhood perfectly. Moms turning their kids scribbles into incredible works of art. Moms being fit and toned and eating healthy foods prepared with vegetables grown from their gardens. Moms who are successfully blogging and selling their work. Moms who have already written everything I’m trying to communicate, only better. Moms who are working and handling the mom business at the same time like total bosses. Maybe when you see all of this it feels easier to retreat into a mindless abyss of a Real Housewives marathon and forget about everything you hoped you could be.

Maybe you feel worthless.

Bringing a life into the world isn’t enough. Sometimes the fact you would even consider motherhood an accomplishment is ridiculed. Being a mom isn’t enough when your creative spirit is withering inside of you.

This is the part where I tell you it’s going to be ok and it’s all worth it. I think that’s what I’m supposed to say. I’m not quite there yet. It is a beautiful sacrifice to raise a child and yes, it’s worth it to see your babies happy and experiencing life. But when that day comes, when they fly away and start to explore their own dreams, where are you? Where are you when their little lives become their big lives and they are not so wrapped up and twisted with yours. Who are you then?