Self(ish)

Struggling with depression again as I have been a bit lately, I've come to finally accept something about myself: I really don't possess the selflessness necessary for this being-a-mother thing.

(And yes, I know I swore off harping on motherhood here, but it's my life and my blog and I'll do what I want and suck it.)

Depression has magnified this lack, I think. Or perhaps I'm just more aware of it, as I'm more myopic and sensitive to all of my shortcomings and failings -- as a friend, partner, writer, boss, human being, all of it, all of it. And it's a form of self-centeredness in itself, the daily accounting of what I lack, how I have fallen short, how I have disappointed. All of this, the countless facets of my deficiency, are thrown into stark relief most when I deal with my daughter because she above all other people on this planet earth requires and requests so much of me on a daily basis. The things she wants, the energy she needs, her questions that require answers, the endless barrage of busywork and errands related to taking care of another, much-less-able human being, is just so, so exhausting. And by "exhausting" I don't even mean tiring or physically draining. I mean that, in my case at least, it exhausts ME, who I am. That it drains not just energy from me, but my sense of self, whatever it is I've come over the course of 38 years to think of as my identity, and the integrity of my mind.

In the past when I had nothing else, no other star to guide my ship by, I've always relied on the girding strength of my own persona, and felt certain that whatever else was true of me my character was a stalwart force, my mind formidable. These things were constant and would not fail me. But when I became a mother, whole years seemed to pass in which I did not feel I was myself at all, in which I -- the "I" I recognized as me, who it is that I understand myself to be -- kind of wasn't there anymore. And not in  the Now I'm A Mom And I've Changed And Adapted Myself To Fit This New Reality sort of way. No, I was not a new version of me modified to accommodate a child. I just wasn't there. *POOF*

Babies and young children compel parents to put their own needs aside, and that's what I did I guess, but to the absolute extremity. It wasn't a thought process, a decision I made, to give up myself in order to be a mother. Maybe who I am isn't, at bottom, all that compatible with motherhood, at least not in its common Selfless Giving Self-Sacrificial manifestation. And if that's true, perhaps I had to erase myself to be what I needed to be for my daughter in her early years. I'm not quite sure, honestly. Those years are gone now.

The love I feel for my daughter is enormous. I can't even wrap my head around that kind of love sometimes, it's so big. And its profundity is what has kept me going even when I've been mired in the blackest tar pit of depression -- it is the infallible engine inside me that will not quit even when my spirit collapses. But this Fall, when she turned 6 and entered Kindergarten, it truly felt as though I'd emerged from exile. Depression, which had accompanied my self-erasure, lifted. And I saw myself (or, rather, my self) again as I had before, for the first time in years. I felt myself to again be singular Me, not The-Woman-Who-Is-Mother-To-My-Daughter. Maybe it's horrible to say this, but I felt liberated, glad that my daughter was finally old enough and self-sufficient enough to be gone most of the day, because it meant I could be blissfully alone with myself again, the self I'd misplaced for years.

In the 6 months since, I've struggled to not feel intensely protective of my time and energy, to not feel I'm operating at a 6-year-long time deficit and want to hoard every moment I can for myself and only myself because I am owed. I'm trying to find a middle ground, one in which I don't fall too in love with the return of my independence and singularity, in which I don't disappear into the mirror reflecting back to me the long lost self I've missed so much. It's hard, though. A few weeks ago I went out and bought something close to a whole new wardrobe, and it was the first time I'd bought any substantive clothing for myself in years. I'd considered my own needs and desires incidental for so long I'd forgotten how to take care of myself, to be good to myself. It's shocking to realize that now. It makes me incredibly sad to think of it.

Of course I don't blame my daughter for any of this. She was and is beautiful and perfect, and I very much wanted her, and I would do everything again to have her here with me now. I do wonder though if any of it could have been different for me, or if the part of me that holds the equipment necessary to being a mother is simply broken, damaged, incomplete.

I'd thought for a time about having a second child, about giving my daughter a sibling, something she's wanted. And I'd like to give that to her, I would. But I've realized I can't. Because as much as she wants a brother or sister, I, in my selfishness, need me more.

. . . . .

This post was picked for Five Star Friday, "The best of what's being thought and said on the web." (I'm so totally honored, thank you!)

Comments

[Kat]

This is such a brave and honest post. Knowing your limits is a good thing. Overstepping what you are capable of handling, not wise.

[Her Bad Mother]

Oof. OOF.

I don't even know what to say. I know. I KNOW. And yet - I'm not there. Yet. I am so still fully IN THIS. Struggling with it, but still.

OOF.

[MrsMessiness]

I do SO admire your ability to write so incredibly honestly - I think a lot of moms will need to read this.

I hope it helps you feel a bit more free to have written it.

[Shash]

I'm so glad you wrote this. Things like this need to be said and discussed because taking care of yourself is equally important as taking care of others; and more often than not parents, especially mothers, forget that. I appreciate this. Thank you for putting it out there.

[citystreams]

I've been struggling with very similar thoughts and ideas. Only I am a teacher, so I get to escape to work and then look forward to the weekends. My 18 month old daughter has brought me SO much joy. But just as you said, I feel myself draining away when I am at home with her for sick days and vacations. I know I'd go insane as a stay at home mom. Yet I sometimes feel that she's missing out because I take her to daycare. The thought of having a second child overwhelms me. I can't imagine how I could stay above water mentally if I had two tiny beings pulling on me all the time. How do people have four and eight and eighteen children? It's beyond me!

[Karen (miscmum)]

I geddit. Totally.

[Florencia]

Dude, there should be a law against getting into other people's heads! You and I had a brief exchange about this and it has kept me thinking about. I 100% understand you and I feel this way often, but of course it's different for me since I can't stay home, I have to work outside the home so I don't get enough time with my daughter as I *think* I wish I could. And the second baby thing is killing me inside. I want my daughter to know the joys of having a sibling, to have the support that I've enjoyed and given to my sister, but I also need to go to law school and how could I possibly do both? Taking care of a baby for the first year means no real sleep or rest, no time to even pee alone (that one I guess goes on for years?) much less study for law school or the Bar. These choices are hard, so hard. I am almost envious of you because you have what it takes to be honest with yourself and your family about what you want and what you know you can or can't do. That right there is the hardest battle and you have won!

[Loralee]

I'm in a puddle of tears here so I hope I can string together a sentence well enough to convey my feelings correctly. I think you touched a really raw nerve. (And I'm pregnant, sick, hormonal as all get out and struggling.)

My youngest is nine. And while I am certain about this baby and I know I will be happy and it's worth it, I am freaking out at what it means to go back to it all after having years of independence. I feel like I don't have one more OUNCE to give anyone else most days and the baby isn't even HERE yet. Terrified is an understatement.

And it makes me feel beyond selfish and ungrateful. I feel like that every day-a big, fat whiner. I'm getting another chance at this amazing thing, and look how I am reacting to it.

The good thing is that I know from experience having the baby here will help, but man...I am so feeling so many things in your writing. This must have been hard to write(It was hard enough for me to just comment on it and I feel like a whiner.)

Bravo.

[She Likes Purple]

You are so brave and incredible. You know I just had a kid, and this really gripped me. It's something I've already struggled with, not even one month under my belt.

[Joie at Canned Laughter]

The world would be a happier better place if more people had the ability to be this honest with themselves. Also? Shhhhh... no one will think any less of you if you take less on for your daughter's sake. I myself was shocked to discover that my daughter is not growing up to be an ax murderess just because I said no to "activities" and gasp! stopped agreeing to so-called volunteer opportunities.

[Papa Bradstein]

It's a struggle we all face as parents, and all of us find our own balance.

I was intrigued by this bit:

"Babies and young children compel parents to put their own needs aside, and that's what I did I guess, but to the absolute extremity. It wasn't a thought process, a decision I made, to give up myself in order to be a mother."

Perhaps it's just the birds who I flock with, but I don't know any parents who felt they had a choice or gave it any thought. Since having 3B, I've thought it was one of those profound inexorable processes of becoming a parent.

I'm not trying to say trying to say that this shift isn't important, but that I hope you realize that you're in good company. Every parent I know has given themselves over to their child in the most extreme way possible for them. There are lots of us out here who understand what you're talking about--as best we can through the web and all that.

As for your derision of your selfishness...our kids want us to be selfish. They want us to be happy. When cabin pressure unexpectedly drops, they want us to put on our own mask before helping them with theirs. They want us to be happy, just as we want them to be happy. May the circle be unbroken.

As you find your balance, I think you'll find plenty of parents who are stumbling along the same path you are. You're not alone.

[kristen]

you are so not alone!
one of my favorite quotes (actually the title of a random magazine article from 10 years ago about the same struggle)and i think it almost every day: "I love being a mother, I hate parenting"

props for owning it though! if you do recognize it you empower yourself to be a better parent because you know your biggest weakness.

[CharmCity]

I am not a mother. The reason is because I knew I was too selfish to be a mother, and I had this horrible feeling inside of me that I would come to resent any child I had for making me sacrifice too much of myself. Many women judge me for being able to say such things. I'm glad I am not the only one who can say something like this. You are very brave, and very entitled to these feelings.

[heels]

I don't see that as broken at all. In fact, I think it's incredibly healthy to recognize your needs and your limits and to proceed accordingly, rather than trying to force yourself into something that doesn't seem right (having a second child). I'm impressed with your introspective abilities. Also, a sibling is not nearly as important than your daughter being able to see you being happier with yourself and feeling able to be more completely yourself.

[Must Be Motherhood]

I'm only 2.5 years and two kids into this thing and I'm already worried I won't recognize the ME that emerges when they're off to school. I'm already raising my fist in protest "WHAT ABOUT ME?!" from under the weight of scraping poop off of little butts and carrying babies around on my chest.
There are many, many days when I think about how close I came to trusting my self-preservation instincts and decided against the second. (Tho, Lawd, how I love him.)
Thanks for opening the conversation up on this one.

[Momo Fali]

These are the things no one tells you before you become a parent...that you will lose a lot of yourself, if not all, after you have children. You hear about the poop, and the spit-up, and the sleepless nights, but no one tells you that you won't buy new shoes for yourself until the ones you own are glaringly out of style, and even then you'll think, "Meh. These are fine."

[Ryan]

I think anytime a person can look at themselves and figure out what's really going on inside of them, and then in turn have the courage to actually say it out loud and make smart decisions based off that analysis, that person is a hero not only to themselves, but to the people around them.

[jess]

So very well said. I have felt this and recognized it in myself for a few years. Now that i have all four in school the fog of depression is lifting, for me.

xo

[katie ~ motherbumper]

The internal struggle of sorting out this feeling of being selfish for not embracing the selfless, is something I'm working through on my own these days (hell, make that years). It's comforting to know others feel this way because it really is a lonely struggle. Finding a safe spot to talk about it without feeling fully naked after sharing is the hard part (though not impossible.)

[Joy]

Has to be said, Trace. Most of us feel this to some degree or another. Well done.