Sometimes parenthood feels like a constant state of conflicting emotions; or, at least it does for me.
There are days when I feel like myself: I’m getting things done, I see friends, I have alone time. Then there are days where I feel like a weird blob that exists only for the needs and amusement of a tiny human. My tiny human, who only needs me in that way.
Does anyone else ever feel this way?
It’s as though I have glimpses of who I was before I became a caretaker, chef, taxi-driver, emotional support person, and – let’s be real, walking milk jug – to another tiny human being. Those brief moments where I remember that I like to read books, and spend time alone in the bathtub, and have a master’s degree that provides for me the skills to lead a whole organization and not just a house that is devastated on a daily basis by a toddler.
By that same token, however, I also see this amazing new world open up to me when I look into my child’s face.
It’s as though my life started the moment I became her parent; everything before then was a prelude. So much of who I am now is defined and created by the fact that I am a parent; the activities I like, the people I spend time with, the organizations I support all reflect my new state.
So there lies the problem; on one hand, I feel lost inside of parenthood, while at the same time, I feel like it has created me and is the foundation of my personality.
Thus the existential crisis; do I exist as a person, or as a parent? Can they coexist? Can I be both myself and a parent, while maintaining a sense of self?