New or soon-to-be emptynesters. Job searchers. Relocators. Caregivers without a charge to care for. Pet parents without a furry friend. Newly single. Long time single but really feeling it these days. You name it and there are likely so many people you know who may be searching. The search is different for everyone, from length of time to destination to a sense of achievement.
Seventeen years ago, I remember feeling equally lost. Life was in a state of flux. I was unemployed but working a contract position. I had ended a ridiculously unhealthy relationship a year or so before and was halfheartedly dating. I was living in a questionable neighborhood. I had no idea which way to go and then discovered I was pregnant. Aha…that was a direction. Or was it a distraction? A really big, life-changing and long-term distraction.
My mini-me is 16 (be still my heart as she prepares to fly from the nest.) Defining myself as “mother” has been the most challenging, fulfilling, and exhausting version of myself. I have learned so much, no doubt that this on-the-job training wasn’t always successful and I’m reasonably sure my kid will need therapy. But, as long as she’s a decent human (and I know this definition may vary), who is happy, kind, curious, strong and grounded….basically, as long as she’s not an asshole then I will feel moderately successful.
But who was I along this journey? I was caregiver, nurse (though I lost all medical credibility when we became friends with real doctors and nurses), teacher, psychologist, chauffer, referee, social director, travel planner, cheerleader, chef and more. I was the sole means of support, the handyman, the banker, the negotiator, and the chief decision maker. With all those hats, I have never had time to think about who I was when not tethered to a child. Even many of my friendships were developed because of those roles.
Now don’t get me wrong – some of those friendships are the glue that held me together and I really treasure them. I also know that most of my mom friends completely understand what I’m talking about here. Who are we without our kids? What kind of friends are we? Are we still friends? Let’s face it, we know some of those friendships are more tenuous than others – though this may be more common when the kids were younger.
A few months ago – though still in the thick of the quarantine environment – a friend asked how I was doing. I was struggling that day and I told her I was having a crisis of faith. It was the first time I had said that and to be honest, that is what I have attributed to this sense of limbo. We talked about for a bit. She had been attending her church virtually and admired her commitment to her observation and connection. I felt less than no desire to do so with my synagogue. I have usually hosted large holiday gatherings, especially for the Jewish holidays and that role was non-existent this past year. I just figured the sense of isolation from quarantine, preventing me fulfilling these roles had left me feeling untethered to my faith and my circle of celebrants. So last month, as Passover rolled around, I decided to host a small, outdoor gathering. Many of us were vaccinated. We made COVID adjustments – we sat outside, we did a lunch instead of dinner (unsure of weather), and I used all disposable plates and utensils (my mother was rolling over in her grave.) It felt almost “normal” and I was thrilled to have my home or rather, my patio, full of my familiar friends. I felt a bit more like myself but still had that sense of limbo. Then a birthday celebration came around – a happy hour on a patio was in order. I’ll admit being completely socially awkward in the majority of social situations – I never know what to say and while I seem quite social and extroverted, I usually feel weird, uncomfortable, and shy. For the last 16 years, these gatherings generally included small kids which proved a great distraction to having to adult with other grownups. There I was at a happy hour. The kids drove across the street to the mall. I knew some people, met a few people. Everyone was very nice and I chatted with those I knew and those I just met. While it was so nice to get out, I still felt that weird limbo. I don’t think my limbo comes from quarantine.
For years, I chalked much of this awkwardness up to being a single mom. Most of my other mom friends are married or partnered so while we could all commiserate on topics of parenting, I simply couldn’t relate to much of the chatter centered around those types of relationships. While this has never been an issue for me, it is something to consider when I think about who I am. Pretty sure it doesn’t come from being a single mom either.
As mini-me spreads her wings (people – she just got her first real job!) and I watch her take those first tentative steps, I know it is my time to do the same thing. Time to find myself again and try and remember who I am. While I will now always be Mom and all that that entails, I have a chance to try and find that girl, that woman – who was more confident, a little crazy and reckless, more adventurous and far more brave than the middle-aged mom I see in the mirror.
I had been thinking of doing a thing but kept telling myself no. I was too old, too uncool. But I really wanted to do it. It’s a small thing by thing standards but a thing nonetheless. I needed a partner in crime. I texted E; she was totally game to not only support me with my thing but do a thing of her own. Mini-me, not to be left out, wanted to do a thing, too. I led the charge. I researched, priced, and scheduled our things. I was nervous all day yesterday. I was going to do a thing – I felt a kind of nervous excitement I haven’t felt in years. I texted E. Could I live up to this thing? She assured me I could but she is far cooler than I am. Off we went to do our thing. Me, a rather dumpy, kinda fat middle-aged woman, a beautiful tall drink of water who is far hipper than me and our 16-year old chaperone.
Sitting there on the table, my toe tapping, muttering, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” the needle went it. It burned more than hurt. My eyes were squeezed shut the entire time. When it was done, E told me it looked like it had been there the whole time. Any reservations I had were gone – even Mini me told me it looked good. E went next with a different thing and we ended with Mini-me, who did the same thing as E. Both so happy with the outcome. Less than an hour later, the things were done. We walked out with a bit more spring in our step.
That needle did more than pierce my nostril. I feel like it woke me up. A renewed sense of doing new things and having fewer regrets. I bought a couple of Groupons for some creative stuff I want to try. I want to take that knife work class at Sur la Table. I’m going to stop coloring my hair (well, we will see how that goes.) I’m going to meet my friend for happy hour next time she asks. I’m buying new underpants. I may touch up my tattoo.
I feel more like myself than I have in years.
PS - And just to confirm that I'm still awkward as fuck, here I am after I had to "soak" my nose is salt water. I'm shocked I didn't drown myself.
