Hibernation

I feel like I’ve been hibernating in my life for the past few years - since becoming a mother. I have felt like I was living in a sleepy fog, or with a veil between me and the world, preventing me from connecting. I felt unable to truly reach out to others, or to even have a full sense of belonging to myself.

My life took on this big, new role, and I immediately pivoted, “sacrificing” my own needs and desires for those of the people around me - especially, of course, these two little boys. I started living in a sense of self-preservation: do what is most pressing around you; only feel what emotions are “useful” at that moment; and for Heaven’s sake, don’t watch the news or get involved in bigger, passionate purposes right now.

At first, I was still spinning from the trauma of Henry’s birth (read about that here and here), so it’s understandable that survival-mode surfaced. In the midst of that, I took a new job, we moved out of the city, changed states, rented a house, leased two cars, and sold our apartment in Brooklyn. In fact, I interviewed for my job exactly two weeks post-partum. I took a break from all-day interviews to go to a friend’s house so that I could pump and call the NICU to check on Henry. There was no recovery time. We moved two weeks after Henry was released from the hospital. I was now a new person, I had uprooted us from our Brooklyn community, and oh yeah...Zach and I were parents now to this tiny little mystery baby who does things at his own pace regardless of typical time frames or developmental milestone charts. “Just keep swimming, just keep swimming…”

When I started to get a grasp of things, I wanted another kid. It was time. I had just finished weaning Henry off of nursing at 20 months, so obviously it was time to go again! Two and half years after Henry, we had Ellis. That pregnancy is a whole other story - the perfect foil for Henry’s birth. I’ll get into that another time. But it kind of pushed the restart button on going back into my isolation chamber from the world. I felt so overwhelmed all the time, so I really had to just keep my head above water. I followed my days' routines while feeling like I was holding myself together with paper clips. It was with my supportive therapist that I began noticing my unraveled threads of self.

Along the path to selfless motherhood, spiraling in survival mode, I felt like I was on a treadmill, working so hard to go nowhere. I lost my sense of identity. I lost my roots of what really drives me - what am I passionate about, anyways? (Cue this blog, almost five years later, trying to weave the threads back together.)

Now, let me be clear - I adore my family. So incredibly much. They’re my favorite people. They’re pretty much the only people that I don’t get completely sick of - and I’m saying this after six months of quarantine, so that’s saying something! Our house is built on love and laughter and music and hugs and so much good food. Despite some early fears based in pure underslept, overwhelmed moments, I am certain that having these boys was the best thing in the world. I’m just trying to express the dual truth that along with tremendous satisfaction and joy in my family, I also feel a sense of loss of self.

I want my boys to see a happy, self-motivated woman - full of life - as their mom. I want them to see a woman who is capable of feeling emotions, understanding them, inviting them to tea, and making peace.

So I’m trying to lift the veil that stops me from connecting. I’m trying to clear the fog from my brain so that I see myself and others around me. I’m trying to look inwards with compassion so that I can start to find the narratives that make me...me.

The funny thing is that I accomplished a lot during these years that I felt lost. Not the least of which being that I completed my Ph.D. That’s crazy to me now looking back, and I’m not entirely sure how it came to be except for the exceptional help, support, and tough love from my husband. I guess what I’m saying is, it is entirely possible to feel one thing inwardly - lost, depressed, asleep, and/or disconnected - despite being able to outwardly be productive, and even to excel at things. Both can exist simultaneously. It’s a “yes, and” situation for those improv-lovers out there. While hibernating my authentic self for preservation, I watched myself go through the motions to get by.

I want to feel seen and heard, but I have protected myself so completely from the outside world that I’m not entirely sure what people will see or hear when I show up. But I will try my best to show up. I want to get to know myself, and maybe….just maybe...start to belong to myself. Then I have a fighting chance at connecting on an honest level with the people around me.