While sitting on a double decker bus (something the boys would have loved) and driving through the countryside, I had a realization of what my therapist has been hinting at for months— I was just too dense to get it. Maybe it took getting out of the every day-ness of life and pulling myself out of the cocoon to see it.
(It definitely is me pulling myself out of the cocoon)
Over the seasons of my life I have felt like I have lost myself, given my all away to those I love in hopes of lifting them up or maybe more so that they too would give themselves and lift me too. Love, whether it be romantic/friendship/familial, to me is very much a ride or die energy.
Promises are not given lightly and neither is my heart.
So of course, I can see that I would be “losing” myself for the ones I love because we give and give and give. Sacrifices will be made on the alter of life. Dramatic, I know!
But as I sat there, watching the sunlight filter through the clouds and the green hills roll past me as I moved closer to adventure, I couldn’t help but feel like I wasn’t really lost and maybe never really have been. Motherhood rocked me to my core and while I still firmly believe that modern day mothering is a huge transition in life, I don’t think I need to feel like I disappeared as the arrival of the boys came but an opportunity to shift and grow. From Maiden to Mother, it was a quest to declare myself and step into the role of creator, to go from innocence to strength.
Those early days of mothering are a fog of trying to care for this human that picked you (my belief) to birth them without a voice or ability to move on their own. You are linked to this little soul and you have to figure out the communications and clues of what they need. Not an easy task, I might add, but what is more intuitive than understanding a face they make whether as an infant or an eight-year-old and knowing what it means.
I am sure I have told this story, dear reader, but I am sleep deprived and have a want of vulnerability today. When A was born, I started to wake up ten minutes before he would cry. At first, I was upset, because I needed the sleep and really why was I waking up! After the the first couple of times, I started to understand: my body would wake up and give me time to adjust. I got water, sometimes would start coffee, or at a minimum go pee before I would hear his little whimpers before a cry. Having those little bits of space before his need was a change I appreciated, because I don’t like to be woken up, I like to wake naturally and on my own accord.
In probably a hundred little ways, I was shifting who I was and adapting for growth. It’s just harder to do when life switches quickly. (although, some would say you have nine months to prepare, I would like to argue that you have no IDEA what child you will get and can hardly prepare for a baby who sleeps well or hardly sleeps!)
On that drive, I saw for the first time what has been right in front of me:
it’s not ever that I lost myself in motherhood, I was being allowed to expand myself. And I choose to stay the same. Well, not stay the same in this scenario, but begrudge the fact that everything had changed and I was unsupported (yes, unsupported and not “not prepared” because mothers need support systems and community to help the adjustment period.)UGH!
What if it’s not that you’ve lost yourself, it’s life/Universe/God saying “Ok, sweetheart, you’ve lived this version of you and now it is time to level up!”