Remember the night you came home with your first, brand new little bundle of joy? It is usually utterly terrifying – and, yet, most of us survive it, and come away with a comical story added to our repertoire. Raising toddlers is tough, and mildly exhausting, especially if you have more than a couple of those little buggers at the same time. Once they go to school, all kinds of new drama, etc. is added to the menu. The teen years almost killed me, or at the very least, they made me wish I was dead a time or two. When they become real adults, it’s such a stone soup of feelings. It’s really wonderful and doing life with your spouse, kind of alone, is a thrilling prospect, if you’ve kept in touch with one another along the way. It’s also the end of the most important and longest part of a mommy’s life, and that’s a little heartbreaking. THE end. The END. When did this all happen?! Am I ready for this?…
I’ve always told myself that I would culture my interests, marriage, and friendships so that when my kiddos grew up and started their own lives, I wouldn’t be left not knowing what to do with my time, with myself. I have never wanted to be that needy mama. I’ve seen too many women lose themselves in being wives and mamas, and I’ve never wanted to be like that. I have many interests. My husband is my favorite. I have several other dear friends.
Yet, I struggle to know what to do with myself. I’m not sure how to not wear my mom identity like a shield. It’s who I am at the core of my being…
I’m flailing. What I know in my head and what I feel in my heart and show in my actions are not lining up. I’m not sure what my next step should be. Also, I’m beginning to experience menopause, so my emotions are not always spot on… But, I’m hesitant to admit this to my family because I’m afraid they’ll use that as a scapegoat for every difference of opinion we encounter and that just makes me frustrated and defeated, as if my ideas and feelings are invalid.
I mean, having a clean house is A-mazing. Spending 1/2 as much on food AND not hearing anyone complain that A – there is no food in the house worth eating or B – there is no food in the house, period (when I just shelled out $300 at the grocery store yesterday), is good stuff. Having time alone with my Honey is lovely. Having time to read, pray, lay around, make kombucha, go wherever I feel like going is something I haven’t been able to do in 4-ever.
I know I’ll get used to this and I expect to fully enjoy it someday in the future, but right now, in this very moment I’m trying to figure out where the time went. I’m trying to figure out how to support my kiddos’ independence and trust that they’ll choose to be in relationship with us in a way that is life-giving, not just obligatory. And, yes, I understand I don’t really have a choice in all of that, but I’d like to do my part well, however, my insecurities, past wounds and lack of experience are not making that easy for me.
Being a mama is hard. Not regular or very hard. It’s the hardest, the WHOLE time.
The beauty is that it is also MUCH more wonderful and lovely and joy-filled than hard. So, there’s that.
Here’s to flailing
and becoming Tricia, again.
And to embracing the adequacy of myself –
not because I’m a mom or a wife, but because I am me.
I can do this.