parenting · running · special needs parenting · writing

Mom Doe

One of the biggest struggles I have is divorcing my own identity from my identity as a mom. 

Shorty after we had Alex, for complex reasons, I quit my job; my career. I told myself I would keep up my paramedic license, and I knew it was a lie. It didn’t happen, I don’t think I was kidding anyone anyway. 

I became a full time mom. Not only that, but a special needs mom. I threw myself into the role, I was so proud of the work I was doing, I valued my new role, and claimed it as my identity. As time went, the role grew and became all-encompassing. I struggled to relate to friends whose kids were mostly typical, and I lost any desire to do so.  

Even the things I do for myself, running and writing primarily, have threads of my children’s stories emmeshed in them, they don’t stand alone as my own.  I have precious little in my life that has my name stamped on it as my own. I’m Mom Doe, a nameless, faceless person whose very existence is almost entirely in support of others. 

And I feel like I’m in a cocoon (or a chrysalis, it’s hard to tell from here).  It’s too tight and it’s uncomfortable. It’s necessary, but I don’t want to be here and I don’t like it. I suspect the time will come for me to emerge, perhaps even with a glorious set of butterfly wings, though I suspect I’m more of a moth. 

I’m eager to break out, likely too much so.  Patience has never been my strong suit.  Who knows, maybe I’m just imagining things. We’ll see. 

Or maybe, just maybe, I’m sprouting wings in here. 


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