Recently, I started taking an acting class. My first in about twenty years. There's an exercise we do that involves improvisation with a partner. You stand across from each other in front of the class, and you say what you notice about the other person -- your impressions of them. You look for changes in emotion, you notice them, state them out loud and see what the reaction is. They do the same. Back and forth. Two impressions of me that left me a bit discombobulated included "PTA Mom" and "Mother Earth." Gotta admit, that stung a bit. I had no idea I gave off such a "Mom" vibe.
It's not the first time my role as a mother has been used by others to give me a sort of shape and definition in their mind. It's just a fact in what's still a relatively new season of life for me. A fact that I am still getting used to while it's immediately apparent to others. This is what's most notable on the surface now --I am the mother of two incredible, spirited, and loving kids.
Lately, I've been thinking about the concept of identity. What it is about who we are that stays constant while so many other aspects change. All the different iterations of ourselves that we grow into and out of throughout our life. What it is that keeps us tethered to the things that make us who we are at the deepest level.
At times, I've felt as though I've lost myself. It tends to happen when I've stepped into a new phase of life. Motherhood, obviously. Becoming a wife and partner. Smaller changes have an effect as well; moving to a new place, starting a job, and creating new friendships. All of these push me in a new direction and help shape me. And they can sometimes lead to other key pieces going dormant. Sooner or later, I find those parts again and begin to feel a sort of homecoming as I rediscover the deepest parts of myself in all of these roles; folding the past and present together around the innate core of who I am. There's a relief in that. And I realize it's a circular process as you evolve and grow.
Becoming a mother changes so many things. It permeates nearly every aspect of your life, and at times overwhelms, consumes, and swallows it whole. It's easy to lose yourself in that, and it's even easier for others to view you solely in that role. That's reinforced by our culture which hammers it in as the defining characteristic of women.
It's only recently that I've been able to clearly identify and articulate the loss of individuality that accompanies the privilege of motherhood. I notice (and feel deeply) the way I am often pigeonholed and occasionally dismissed now -- as simply "a mom." I've felt the disconnect between others' perceptions of me and my own knowledge and innate sense of who I am. I've felt guilty for being bothered by that -- by the idea or implication that my individuality has disappeared or ceased to matter. As if I don't exist outside of that with my own thoughts; ideas, goals, and dreams. As if that's the only thing that defines me. At times I've resented it.
It's a kind of loss -- but in the service of something so much bigger. And I wouldn't change it.
I am a mother. But first and foremost, I am still myself. There are multitudes within me that shift and change as ever more are added while some are shed, and some lie dormant. Each change adds an ability to look at things from a different perspective. And some things don't change --there are core values that remain consistent and make me, "me," and that has always been the case.
I'm reminding myself that all of these things can be true at once. And I'm reminding myself that no one who really knows me would look at or define me in a singular way. Least of all me. And that's what matters. Most of who we are remains unseen by the world at large. That's how it is, and that's ok.
Besides, I'm a much better actor now than I was at twenty. It's exhilarating to unearth a part of myself I haven't looked at in so long and to see how it's been shaped and changed by all of these experiences. It's taken awhile, but slowly, slowly, I'm circling back to myself.
