Purpose

The Girl You Once Had Time to Be

“Time flies when you’re making babies. Do you miss your little black Mercedes; do you miss the girl you once had time to be?” Jason Isbell

It’s tough to admit, but I miss her more, at times. I miss her to-do lists that she tackled fervently and simply and in total completion before she concocted a new one. I miss her “Saturday showers” after she was through with all of her weekend chores. I miss the way she’d dance around the kitchen after a day’s work in her bare feet and move her glass of red wine with her from the stove-top to the sink and then back again. 

I do a poor job of allowing her to shine through when I no longer have energy for the things that were before I became a working-mom. Actually, I may have forgotten all about her more often than not over these past six years…. This is why this is one of the hardest topics to write about. Mostly because I don’t have any answers; I am still trying to figure myself out. 

Motherhood didn’t just change me physically. Motherhood awakened a never-ending internal battle between choosing who I want to be and what I have to be. Sometimes, I’m still 26 and awaiting the glorious news that my body has created and sustained life within. And then, I look around at the mess of every room in our home and feel overwhelmed and out of control while my little band-its are loudly and happily chasing one another or asking for another glass of milk or for me to wipe them in the bathroom.

They need me most, right now. They need me more than she does…

I have seen her again, especially throughout this past year. We enjoyed a weekend away in Atlanta, I spent four days in San Diego on a work-trip, and Zach and I traveled to Colorado for our 10th anniversary. Glory be to those blissful, brief escapes. I milked every last second to clear my mind from the chaos and clutter, but I often allowed the guilt to come along with me.

Time is so different when little people aren’t relying on you. The mess (or lack thereof) around me is my own! Do you know how gratifying it is to take off your shoes and your clothing and put them away where they belong without considering where someone else is tossing theirs? You should have seen me all but gush when one of the gals from housekeeping at our hotel said, “I barely know you’re here, you’re so tidy”. SWOON… 

These trips gave me time to rediscover who I am and what I like. You won’t be surprised to find that a hot meal or an ice cold beverage are among the top of those likes. I also enjoy reading business magazines (who has time for that when you’re attempting to keep three little people alive?) and picking out healthy snacks that I enjoy (instead of shoving kid-snacks down my throat during my 3 minute break) or working ahead on a project for work (when I typically just meet deadlines).

And yet, work is also a thief when it comes to being me. I should’ve noticed my martyr-like ways, sooner. I want to help everyone. I think I can do it all. Inevitably, 5:00 p.m. rolls around daily and I have a choice to make: do I take time for myself, time for my kids, or time for work. Can you guess which one I hardly ever choose? 

2019 came with four flights for me, and each time I took pause when the flight attendant stated “first place your own oxygen mask before helping others.” If you’re a mom with self-sacrificing tendencies like mine, then you know where I am going with this. How the holy-heck am I supposed to think of myself before I think of my children? When I bore them, I vowed to put them first… or, did I?

Can I be it all? Can I be me, a mother, and a professional? Is that trifecta ever even possible?

I feel like my life works in hats. When I am awakened in the middle of the night with a child who’s had a nightmare or who is sick and hurting, I grab my mom-hat from my bedside and fling it onto my head before I begin that good work. After I’ve washed and comforted, I plop back into my bed and tuck my mom-hat under my pillow while allowing my me-hat to cover my face and swallow me back into sleep.

When the alarm sounds at 5:45 a.m. I position my mom-hat and my me-hat equally atop my head. Upon grabbing my lunch box and purse, I carefully and maybe begrudgingly set my mom-hat aside and nearest the door so that it’s on-the-ready for my return. I firmly set my working-hat on my head and almost gleefully begin my day’s work at the office. It feels good to have purpose and see results from my contributions outside of the routine of home life. But at any given point, no matter how detailed or fitting the hat, I just don’t feel whole. I am missing something.

This motherhood thing really screwed things up when it comes to figuring myself out. I thought by the time I was 30, I’d know exactly what kind of woman I was. It’s truly the opposite. 

My body is a mess. None of my clothes fit me. I no longer have a style I stick to, and it makes me wander through the aisles of clothing at the store like I am lost. It leads me to searching for a black heeled bootie for over a year and then I find one that screams “yes!” so I buy it in every color only to find I no longer have clothing that goes with a bootie-type shoe….    

Six years ago wasn’t that long ago but everything has changed. When I remember her, I don’t think of how perfect she was, because she was anything but. But, she had freedom in her choices and life was so beautifully simple.

So this in-between I’m living in, is that forever? Probably not. Children grow. Careers change. What remains? Me. Black Mercedes or not, when 5:00 p.m. comes around each day, perhaps I should reorganize my priorities. Otherwise, what happens when I am all that is left?