A news bulletin caught my eye with a terrifying statistic. Kudos to the journalist – the headline most definitely did its job! This statistic alone gave me some fire in my belly to write again. It’s been a while. So here we go…
62% of women feel they’ve lost part of their identity since becoming a mother, says new survey.
That’s two thirds. That’s so many women.
I feel strongly about this because I am absolutely part of that statistic. The shift in focus, time, and priorities has led to a feeling of losing myself amidst the demands of motherhood and thus creating a whole new identity. An identity that I’m still getting used to. She’s not a stranger, not a close friend… merely an acquaintance. Someone I “know of” but don’t know well. I’m still unsure about her. I’m still trying to fathom her out.
Let me start by saying that I do think I am growing to love my new identity but I have to be honest and say that, at times, she is totally unrecognisable. So unrecognisable in fact, it makes me stop in my tracks. Who is this person who has stepped into my life and formulated a whole new set of rules I must abide by?
First of all, to give my new identity some credit, it has so much more mental strength than my old identity ever had. I have lost a sense of who I was because my life revolves around what my children need and not about what I need. Although I am still fully in control of my life, things are different now. Being a mum doesn’t define me completely although it is a huge part of who I am. To the point where I don’t feel like I have the power to “be” anything else a lot of the time. And maybe that’s why this new identity is so compelling.
On reflection, I think I naively thought I was emotionally mature enough not to lose myself and my hard-earned independence to motherhood. I’d say (and I cringe even thinking about this) “we won’t let having kids change our lives; the kids will just fit in with us”. The whole concept is laughable. To think I actually had visions of us travelling the world – city breaks – with kids in tow.
The things that used to matter to me, really don’t matter now. Or they do matter but I just perceive them differently:
My career – used to be my life. It’s still a big part of my life, but it doesn’t consume me like it used to … because it can’t. I don’t have the surplus hours any more for me to succumb to the consumption. I want to come home and be a mum and spend a couple of hours with the people I love the most.
Exercise. The old me exercised as a hobby and secondarily for aesthetics. It’s no longer for either of these things – it’s more like an absolute essential for “me time” and to protect my mental health. And my physical health of course. My kids are ultimately the reason I exercise. I want to be strong, healthy and fit to give me the energy to be a good mum. The hobby and aesthetics don’t even enter my mind.
Social time and holidays. All events are based on the premise: What can we do to make the kids happy? It’s not about what makes me happy anymore. BUT seeing my girls happy, makes me happy. So I always opt for that option anyway. How’s that for a paradox?
Clothes (ridiculous, I know). I distinctly remember putting on some jeans and feeling ‘I can’t wear these now’. I catch myself in the mirror sometimes and I barely recognise myself…
Pre-kids, I had a clear sense of style. I’d walk into a shop and gravitate towards clothes what were “me”. Hundreds of pounds later, I’d walk away with new additions to my wardrobe. I walk into shops now and I honestly feel lost. I feel even more lost when scrolling through ASOS or Zara… the apps that used to be an “add to bag” then swiftly “buy”, now just sit in my bag and for me to question it. Brain says: you can’t wear that Amy. And ultimately, then gets removed from bag.
There are times when you have a glimmer of your old identity but you can’t stay in it for too long because it feels alien to you now. It’s this constant … oxymoron … a contradiction … I don’t even know what the word is to describe the conflict you feel. And it is exactly that, a conflict.
“I’m not that person anymore…”
“but I really want to be that person…”
“Actually, no I don’t”
What my old identity found “fun”, my new identity hates, which is a massive challenge mentally. How can your identity change so drastically? It makes you question everything.
Needless to say, I gave into it… my new identity won. She took over. But I let her. I gave myself permission and treated myself with compassion. I also realised that my new identity is constantly evolving. Like being a shapeshifter but against my own will. We’re powerless to this change in identity but we embrace it.
In summary…
My new identity: I don’t know her as well. She still feels weird but I’m definitely warming to her. I like how she thinks differently, how she views the world differently because two little humans look up to her and think she’s the best.
And how lucky am I, with my new, persistently blossoming identity? To have the will to change because I’m blessed with two human beings who NEED and depend upon this identity that’s unidentifiable to me at times, but to them, it’s the opposite of unidentifiable… it’s wonderfully recognisable, distinguishable and noticeable. Because it’s home, its safe, it’s love. And this new identity is all they know.
I think my new identity should be incredibly proud of that.