Identity Search

“Don’t struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that is rending its own plumage in its desperation.”

Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

I don’t know about you, but one area I have always struggled with is my identity. I am a mom and wife in my thirties, but I struggle with who I am. I love my life as a mom and I want to be the best mom to my girls as I can be. In order for me to do that, I need to take care of me. Not just normal self-care like grabbing a coffee alone. Showering alone. Taking an hour to read a book or mindlessly watch YouTube on my phone. But actually digging deeper with my care. Those kinds of times will only help me temporarily. I’m looking for a care that is more permanent. I have been going to counseling on and off since college…oh man, 12 years. Wow, that seems like such a long time ago. I will get more into counseling in my later posts. Here, I’m just going to look at my struggle with identifying.

I will never be able to separate being a mother from my identity, nor would I want to. I take pride in the fact I am a mom. However, I have a problem with just being defined as a mother or a wife. Well, to be honest, I have always had a problem with being defined or identified as anything. For me, I have always struggled with my identity and identifying to things. In my mind, I was/am never “qualified” to identify as anything in particular. I believe in high school, I could have identified as an athlete; but even then it would have been hard for me to feel like I could back it up. I never felt like a “college student.” Even picking my major, I felt like all of the majors were for someone else. “That’s not for me.” “This is for someone else.” I never felt like I could own it or I could do it or if I even wanted to do it. Maybe, I never felt worthy enough. Even now, it irritates my husband that I won’t identify as certain things. I love playing video games, but I won’t say I’m a “gamer.” I love to rock climb, but I won’t say I’m a “climber.” I am a mother, but I find myself even having trouble identifying as a “mom.” It’s like “Oh yeah, I guess I am in my thirties and am a mother of two.” It’s even hard for me to call myself a “woman,” because I still feel like a girl. If that makes any sense.

Getting married and changing my name really shook things up in the area of my identity. In college, I was going through this phase of fighting to be “Amanda.” Being seen as me. I was really trying to figure myself out. I didn’t even see me as me, so how was anyone else supposed to? Right out of high school, I started dating a guy 4 years older than me. We dated for 3 years and then I broke it off. Those 3 years, I was really wrapped up in him and being his girlfriend, I never grew into myself. I was consumed in the world of being his girlfriend. Morphing my life into his. When I broke up with him, I had no idea who I was. I went through some growing up. Learning more about myself and who I was and wanted to be. I was able to be independent and not be a part of someone. Looking back, I didn’t do as much growing as I thought I did. I started dating a year later and got wrapped up in another dating relationship all over again. I wasn’t firm in who I was, which was made evident by the collapse of the little self I had built for the second time and by the loss of dear friends.

It was a quick dating relationship and before I knew it, we were married. If you think you struggle with your identity, then go get married and watch it crumble out of your hands like an old, stale cookie. I opened my eyes and my name had changed. I was no longer Amanda. I was a wife. I was another woman in my husband’s family. My husband and his family hold a lot of pride in their name. It should have been comforting to me, but it brought up a fight in me. A defensiveness. “I’m not a Smith woman. I’m Amanda, dammit. Can’t you see me?” It took me so long to understand their pride in their name. To understand their pride in their family and who they were as a family. Again, it should have been comforting to me. It should have given me a sense of belonging. It should have given me a sense of identity. Instead, it got me ready for a fight. Instead, it made me angry. It made me resistant. It hurt.

Then, one day, I received a letter that said “Mrs. Benjamin Joseph Smith” and there it was, staring at me. My identity taken completely away, to the fullest extent, in writing. The girl inside me got so angry. Even “Amanda” was gone. In my mind at the time, marriage, my husband, and his family had taken my name away from me. The thing I was desperately trying to hold onto. All I thought I had was my name. I had been longing my whole life for my identity and desperately held on to the little I had. Just like that, I felt it was taken from me.

Even though I have grown a lot since then, I still recognize that girl and am still closer to her than I care to admit today. The point of going back and bringing that all up to the surface, is to say that this year, I am going to allow myself to wrestling with this struggle. Allow myself to connect and identify on any level. On lighter stuff like being a “gamer” or a “climber” and on deeper levels. To be honest, it is the deeper levels that need the most healing, but starting small will help with the bigger, deeper steps. Starting small will help the bigger steps not seem so big.

Being older and further into my journey, I recognize this area of identifying has to do with shame. Shame steals joy. Shame has stolen a lot in my life. Shame says, “You aren’t that. That is someone else better than you.” “You aren’t qualified to be that.” “You are a fraud and everyone knows it.” I don’t know why shame has such a loud, far reaching voice. This year I want to overcome shame and start gathering the joy that comes from identifying and connecting to things and people. To stop hiding in my lack of identity and start claiming who I am and was created to be.

Such a big topic to chew on and revisit throughout this journey. With different areas such as this one, I feel like I am just on the tip of the iceberg. I’m only seeing the top and have no idea how big the whole beast underneath the surface is, or how deep and far it spreads. I look forward to sharing more about how I’ve grown from this mindset. More to uncover later. Until next time, loves.