I often read many tales of Moms that speak about a loss of identity after having a child. Now, perhaps because being a mom is new to me and illness is not, I am used to hearing, reading and talking to people about identity loss after becoming sick. For example, instead of being Sara with a side of illness, I became ‘That Sick Gal’ who happens to be named Sara. Being a new 1st time mom, well, not only am I in a completely new territory; I am in a new realm. I know how to better take charge and dismiss it when people think of me as ‘That Sick Gal’ vs Sara. This doesn’t mean it is not a stigma I don’t continue to run up against or that I don’t still feel shaky about my identity now and again. I am simply more practiced at speaking of my illness – whilst for others it can be rather odd. But speaking of my identity being a mom? This still eludes me.
I know talking about illness isn’t always pretty. It doesn’t always flow well. And let’s be honest, it’s extremely personal. Conversationally, it is a stopper. I mean people just get either slack jawed or completely tense; but when you are used to talking about it, that type of reaction is easy to forget.
Taking all of this awkwardness into account I am going to go there anyway. I have had Cancer. Currently, I am in remission. For those who have been touched by Cancer in any way – you know this doesn’t mean the end. Before, during, and since the Cancer I have lived with and fought Lupus, MCTD, RA, and Endometriosis – just to name a few. That Cancer tale of mine, my friends, including the after, will be told in the posts to follow.
However, this write is more about identity, or rather a lack thereof. I believe we experience many shifts throughout our lives that may cause our identity to tear, fracture, or completely break from what we know. Motherhood being one of the most significant for women. But my loss of identity started, and has been a huge challenge since I heard the few words that would forever redefine what I’d known:
“You are too sick to work. We think you’re great, but you and your health have become a liability that we cannot afford to take on”.
I should have prefaced this by saying how much I LOVED WORKING and I was at a place/age where not even a husband, let alone a child, had entered my thought.
With one sentence, kind as it may have been, an entire part of my being was whisked away with what felt like a mere wave of a wand.
The logical part of me understood of course; it made sense. It made business sense (small or large). Viscerally though I felt as the air had been slashed out of my tires; except for one tire and that one tire just had a slow leak to reiterate and stand as a constant reminder of what I had become.
I became sad. Worse than sad, I became sullen and an empty shell.
I remember during those long hours of sitting still out on the porch thinking, ‘How do people do this? How do my mom friends do it? I know I have seen them go through it and come out the other side even stronger. I have seen my fellow illness warriors do the same – Why can I not just be who I am?’ But I didn’t know who that self was to me or how she was perceived in society. And who was this girl that worried about how she was perceived? When did that happen?
After an enormous amount of self-loathing, a little too much time spent deconstructing myself, and a lot of journals filled up I finally realized one thing (if nothing else). I may not have known who I was but this ‘pity party’ had to stop. I had to move. Function. Get one thing done. Shower and be happy I was clean. Little by little and step by step I began to begrudgingly get off that porch and instead force myself to go do the little things I remembered my old self enjoying, not knowing whether this new me would. I went to the book store. I began going back to my yoga and dance classes again. Then, one day, after much forced repetition I was smiling without reminding myself to smile. I began to write with passion again not for pity. I might not have known exactly who I was, but I was becoming ok with that. When bad days came, they just had to be dealt with — and I am not being flippant, believe me. None of this was easy. It still isn’t. But if it were easy, everyone could do it.
Now I have become a mom and something that I thought I had already resolved within myself has resurfaced. I have lost my identity again. I always had empathy for the Moms who went through this, but in the same way that people who are not sick don’t know what to say to sick people I never knew what to say to my friends who became moms and went through this when they asked for help.
There is one difference in this current loss of identity, and that is I am aware of what a loss of identity feels like. I do not have to wonder what is happening or have people tell me why I don’t feel like myself. Although, it has been extraordinary how open moms will be if you only just ask them. I have found the mom community to be reassuring, especially the new moms who are about 1 year ahead of me. They help me navigate with the ‘do’s and don’ts’ that can throw all new moms for a loop. But my identity is mine to figure out, and by drawing on my illness experience as a positive, it has made me aware of what an identity crisis feels like. For this I am grateful. But I still must navigate through THIS loss and the frustrations still exist.
In the end there is no ‘correct’ thing to say. Nor is there a quick fix from a loss of identity from any life-altering event in which this loss is a result. The most we can do is talk to each other and try to be kind to ourselves. Some days will be easier than others. I can only hope that now as a mom, I will find that identity again – or even better evolve to broaden my identity…to make it my own again and be at peace with myself.
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