Motherhood: The Identity Thief (and How to Reclaim It)

Motherhood: The Identity Thief (and How to Reclaim It)

Becoming a parent changes everything. It’s not a news flash. We all know this. But after having my son, I barely recognized myself. It wasn’t just that my clothes didn’t fit or the alarming hair loss no one had warned me about; my entire life felt different. I had gone from a corporate job with clear goals and feedback to feeling lost in my son’s nursery at three in the morning. Despite reading countless books, there was no definitive measure of success in motherhood.

Transitioning to being a stay-at-home mom erased every metric I once used to define myself. As someone who thrives on positive reinforcement and meeting goals, I felt adrift amidst the unpredictable chaos of motherhood. Was I doing it right? Was I falling behind? Was I winning or losing?

Oh, how I yearned for a performance review or an employee-of-the-month award! Instead, I found myself covered in spit-up, forgetting tummy time, and catastrophizing every moment of the day. I understood something was missing—I longed to reclaim that part of myself.

My son cried incessantly. Colic transitioned into ear infections, and sleep became a distant memory. I felt robotic and lost. But as my son approached his first birthday, I started to confront the void within me. Who was I without the familiar measurements that once defined my identity? I had no idea parenting could be so isolating. I even believed that the more isolated and committed I was to parenting, the better I must be doing.

Living away from home and lacking a solid support network, I found myself immersed in repetitive tasks, with my husband often away on work trips. As I asked myself tough questions, the answers became clearer. I missed my connection to the world—telling funny stories over coffee, commiserating in the breakroom, and sharing life’s highs and lows with understanding souls. 

One night, as I comforted my son during an ear infection, I made a commitment to find my voice again, to reconnect and breathe life into everything that once made me, well, me.

I discovered a group of mothers who gathered at the park with their children, and those encounters eventually blossomed into genuine friendships. Through long conversations while pushing our children on swings or preventing them from putting random things in their mouths, I found myself talking about writing—something I had always loved. One mother suggested I start journaling.

Initially, it was a way to process my thoughts and emotions, to find release amidst the pandemonium of motherhood. But as I wrote, I felt a reconnection with my true self and a renewed sense of purpose. I started to rediscover my voice as a writer. I penned my experiences as a new mother—the challenges, the sleepless nights, the endless feedings, and the moments of pure exhaustion. But I also wrote about the profound love and connection I felt with my child.

Then came the next step—I began sharing those stories and journal entries with others. I openly discussed my experiences and how writing helped me regain my balance in the face of overwhelm. I’ll never forget the evening I sat at a business dinner with my husband’s company, talking to a woman who had just returned from maternity leave. Bluntly, I said to her, “Isn’t it the worst? It’s not at all like I thought it would be. It’s exhausting, repetitive, and sometimes scary. I really thought I’d be better at it than I am.” I shared stories of my own mom fails, many of which I had documented in my journal.

To my surprise, she burst into tears. Not because I had said something offensive, but because I was the first person to admit how challenging motherhood could be and how lost I had felt. I hadn’t intended to be profound but it clearly had an effect on her.

As we continued conversing, the topic shifted to my writing and how I was considering a larger writing project. That’s when we stumbled upon another hurdle: guilt.

Guilt seems to be the unwelcome gift we receive as mothers at our baby showers, even though we never registered for it. I had this idea for a novel that consumed my thoughts, but with every moment I spent writing, a nagging guilt would whisper, “Shouldn’t you be tending to your family instead?” Society imposes impossible expectations on mothers, and the refrain plays on an endless loop in our minds.

That night, I made a pivotal decision. I would seriously consider writing the novel. Yet again, it was the women in my life, many from my own family, who helped me break free from the clutches of guilt. During a conversation with author Ruth Cardello, she reminded me that I would be a better mother if I poured myself into a project I loved. Reconnecting with myself would benefit everyone in my orbit.

And so, my journey began. Embracing the writing process helped me forge connections with other mothers and writers experiencing similar struggles. Through online writing groups and communities, I found a sense of belonging and support that had been missing from my life. I shared my work, received feedback, and basked in the encouragement that fueled my growth.

The day my novel was published, I was still picking up toys and washing an endless stack of dishes. The daily tasks of motherhood hadn’t magically transformed into something new. But I had changed. Reviews poured in, offering new insights to improve my craft and expand my audience.

Before becoming a mother, I thrived on results and performance. Losing those familiar markers of success at the start of motherhood rattled me more than I anticipated. I had to seek out a new sense of purpose and build it for myself. When I gave myself space and permission to do so, I felt whole again.

If you’re a parent struggling to find your sense of self and purpose, I encourage you to build what you need. Writing can be a great starting point. It doesn’t have to be elaborate or polished—begin with a journal or notebook and jot down your thoughts and experiences. You may be surprised at how therapeutic and empowering it can be. Who knows? You might rediscover a part of yourself that you thought was lost forever.

So, dear mothers and fathers, let this be a reminder: amidst the madness of parenthood, you have dreams, passions, and stories that deserve to be shared. Embrace the journey of self-discovery and reclaim your identity, one word at a time.

—

Danielle Stewart is a USA Today Best Selling Author of over 50 books. She has held the number one book rank on Apple Books, Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Danielle currently lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with her husband and son. She works hard to perfect her ability to write in a noisy house and create story lines while daydreaming and folding laundry. She loves hearing from readers so please find her on social media.

THE GIRL AT THE PARTY

Slamming the door shut behind her, Stephanie takes one last look at the party where her best friends are busy celebrating. As the drinks are poured and music blasts, she disappears into the darkness alone. Some say she was crying. Others think they heard an argument that night. But we never saw her alive again…

Ever since our best friend Stephanie was found murdered four years ago, I’ve been haunted by the feeling that I should have done more. The eight of us at the party were inseparable – and we always thought she was the perfect one. The one who stayed out of trouble. The one who always looked out for us…

But when we discover more about the events leading up to that fateful night, I realise that our friend was far from perfect. The golden girl was keeping secrets. Secrets that someone would kill to keep quiet. The more I learn about that night, I realise I never really knew her at all.

And as we get closer to the truth of what happened, the threats start. A warning message is keyed onto my car. Then the house is broken into, and my belongings are destroyed. The killer is watching us, and they are coming out of the shadows…

But when I find out that Stephanie knew her killer, my blood runs cold. Are they closer to me than I could have ever imagined? And just how far will they go to make sure the truth stays buried forever?

This addictive and gripping psychological thriller is perfect for fans of Megan Miranda, Lisa Jewell and Laura Marshall.

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Tags: featured, women writers

Category: On Writing