I am a mother.
In this piece of my identity, I have smiled; I have cried; I have laughed; I have yelled; I have felt great pride; I have felt great sorrow; I have succeeded; I have struggled; I have been a mother of great energy; I have been a mother of no energy; I have been selfless; I have been selfish. But still, I am a mother.
However, identifying as such didn't prepare me for "I am a mother less needed." This has been my identity crisis for a year.
You see, although there is no handbook for parenting and so many experts from whom to grab greatness (or from whom to learn how not to be), no other mother can prepare you for the season of life that occurs when you transition into a mother less needed. In my house, it
looks like...
less laundry on the basement floor
fewer dishes in all the rooms of the house
longer lasting food supplies
less trash on pick up day
fewer events on the calendar
fewer lights left on
fewer late nights waiting
fewer birthday party plans
more late nights reminiscing
sounds like...
less hurried bodies out the door
less unique laughter echoing in the halls
fewer bedtime conversations
less water being flushed and showered
more phone call conversations and text message dings
feels like...
pride and sorrow
selflessness and selfishness
success and struggle
energy and lethargy
an identity crisis
And at the base of the looks like, sounds like, feels like, this question of self-actualization remains: If not a mother, then who am I? (insert the screams of "you're still a mother!") Yes, yes I know that truth...I will always be a mother...I am a mother. BUT...I am a mother less needed and the reality is, I identified so deeply with my role as a mother always needed, that I didn't give time to knowing myself outside of that role. However, in the past year, I have come to realize that a mother less needed also
looks like
a journey of self-discovery
sounds like
a mind of a million questions
feels like
a long walk with myself
To all who are currently walking this journey or will be, it is both lonely and crowded on this path, in this season. Hold my hand and I'll hold yours...we are mothers.
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