The air grows cold around her, as she sits outside waiting. Waiting for something else, for something more. Waiting for inspiration to strike, for the nerve to enter her house again and willingly sink herself into chaos.
A small shiver passes through her as she watches the swallows swoop and dive, a mating ritual as old as time. She looks at the sky and wishes for warmth and long hot days.
Outside, she is nothing but herself. No one hiding in her clothes, no demands, no requests. She can be herself, without the suffocating needs of others, without having to mould herself into whatever is needed at the time. A mother, a partner, a nurse, a mediator, a lover. Here, she is herself.
The rain starts, small drops dotting her shirt. She raises her head to the sky and looks at them as they fall, wondering where she went wrong, wondering what happened that she lost herself so badly.
I was more than this.
With the birth of her first child, her identity decreased a little. Strangers addressed her as Mummy and she smiled and nodded. Inside her head she screamed I have a name! I am more than Mummy! I am myself. Why have you forgotten that?
A cry that women have uttered since the dawn of time.
And still, even as she loses her identity, it is never enough. The world tells her what she is doing wrong with a cacophony of sound: you should have stayed home; gone back to work; read them more books; vaccinated; not vaccinated; played them classical music; done more. You’re doing it all wrong.
Being their mother is not enough, the world demands more.
She sits outside, her face turned to the rain.
Just a little longer. I want to be me, for just a few more moments.
As she heads inside again, she breathes deeply and tucks these moments away. These stolen moments that tell her I am more than this moment. I can do this, no matter that it feels like I am drowning.
Allowing her to hold onto her sanity through the worst of times, these are the times she craves.
She steps back inside and welcomes the chaos as it envelopes her.
Comments
24 responses to “Lost Identity”
You describe it so well.
Take that moment. That breath. Be you.
[…] This post was mentioned on Twitter by tiffany tregenza, Veronica F. Veronica F said: A mothers lost identity: http://veronicafoale.com/lost-identity/ […]
Such a vital moment. I used to envy my friends who smoked because they had an inbuilt reason to step outside for a moment. Then I realised I could make my own reason and just be away/elsewhere for a few precious moments.
Wow V. Are you in my head?!
I think this is the best thing I’ve read from you. Ever. <3
This is probably my biggest struggle with parenting, too.
I’m thankful that I have another mom 50% of the time to share it with- as mine are my step kids.
Sneaking outside to get away from it for a few minutes is exactly the right thing to do.
And you know what else helped me? MAKING time to meditate. Or to just be silent with myself.
*hugs*
“A cry that women have uttered since the dawn of time.”
So true. And so beautifully stated. Very powerful. xx
This is the same conversation I have with myself every single day.
Oh god yes, this is so true. Here’s for more moments to find ourselves again, eh? x
Poignant and so true. Beautifully written.
I have a lump in my throat the size of a water melon! This is so good and so true.
Is tea ready yet?
You are still there, vibrant, fun, clever, always too hard on yourself as ever. An extremely good piece of writing echoing I think the thoughts of many mothers of young children around the world. The other side of this with mine now 18 and 20 it seems only moments ago that I was where you are now. Despite the frustrations, the perceived loss of self, these are beautiful times.
What a lovely piece of writing! Very touching *hugs*.
Wow. This is breath-taking. The writing. The truth of it.
[…] Foale: Lost Identity. The identity loss that comes with […]
Oh, I hear you. Loud and clear. xx
We all go through seasons in our lives. It’s ok to recognise that as you have done here.
Wow, so true, beautifully written x
The chaos is fantastic and fleeting, but it is nice to have that little moment to myself. Beautifully written!
Its impossible to love the chaos if we don’t grab those beautiful brief moments to ourselves…just to be us! I don’t have enough of them at the moment! Such a powerful, beautiful post.
I love going out — or just being alone and just being me! It’s interesting, we have so many lables as mothers. I’m someones mother. Someones wife. Someones sister. But oh, it’s so nice to be just me sometimes. I snatch these moments when I jump over a fence or hang the washing out at midnight. And I relish it.
visiting from the carnival, beautiful words I think most most mothers could relate to at some time