I love being a mom more than anything else in the world. Being the center of my family, a steadfast need-filler, has finally closed the loop and answered the question, “Who am I?” However, while parenting has brought me a great sense of purpose and identity, I feel like I’m occasionally teeter-tottering on the edge of being swallowed whole. Being a mom can be so all-consuming that I’ve found it easy to get lost in it. After 4 years of parenting my trio, I started to see pieces of myself slipping away. While so much of my identity is now built on them, I didn’t want to lose all of who I was before they came on the scene.
This “loss of self” manifested itself physically in my body (ugh) and my home (double ugh). I started not to fully recognize myself in pictures any more and when I looked around my house, there wasn’t an inch of space that was simply and solely for me. If I wanted to continue being the mom I wanted to be, something had to change. I needed to reclaim *me*.
The journey started a few months back when I decided to make space in my life for my health and get control of my body. It is an ongoing battle to keep this goal at the forefront day in and day out – to step away from my desk for a mid-day walk or miss bedtime once a week for Zumba – but I’m doing it. Slowly the pounds are dropping away and I’m seeing myself in the mirror again.
Then it was time to tackle the house. We had been talking forever about getting a dumpster but the right time never seemed to come. So I just did it (thinking of all the calories cleaning would burn!). When that dumpster was sitting empty in my driveway, I was giddy with the potential. Room by room we decluttered, donated, and purged. Clearing out all the *stuff* that had been surrounding and suffocating me. The amount of crap that has come along with 3 children is insane!
I’m so happy to report that the dumpster has now been filled to the brim and I can breathe in my house once again. Spaced reclaimed! And do you know what was there hiding under all those toys, baby clothes, and 9875923 school papers?
Pieces of me.