Who Am I? Really?

I have a confession to make. 


Ever since Miss Pink entered my world two years ago, I have grappled with my identity. Who am I? Mummy Debbie? Career Debbie? Wife Debbie? Gym Debbie? (actually that last one's a bit of a joke fantasy.. Gym Debbie never really gets much of a look-in. Walking-Outdoors Debbie is more my style). 


Has this happened to you? A significant life event has left you reeling from the changes it brings, and you try to grasp the scattered pieces of your life, of your self, and put them back into some sort of order? 
Don't get me wrong: Miss Pink's arrival into the world was one of the best things to ever have happened in my life. But it certainly blew all of my carefully arranged plans and expectations into the stratosphere. Sitting together on the rocking chair gazing at the sunset? I think not. Who has time to sit down during cactus hour whilst trying to bath and dress an irate two year old intent on playing 'name that tune.. NOW MUMMY!' 


For a long while I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to figure out what roles I should play and in what precise combination. Should I be a stay at home Mum? Should I work? Should I put Miss Pink in childcare? Should I enrol in further study? Contemplate a career change? Eat organic? I was under some kind of delusion that if I somehow found the right 'fit' of all of these parts of me, I'd reach a point of peace and happiness. Perhaps I was trying to regain a sense of control where it really didn't exist.


I blame the self-help industry. The promises of north stars, essential selves, skinny bitches, finding your strengths, bodies for life, taming your toddlers (or teens/husbands), financial freedom..... while it's really healthy to consider one's wellbeing and take action to improve it, the risk is that we can be lured into a trap where we think that the grass really will be greener if we lose that baby weight, or find a job we feel more satisfied with, or if we finish that house renovation, or become a master chef. Even worse, when we try to make changes in our lives but we don't feel any better, we blame ourselves and feel even more futile.


The fantastic truth is, those changes in themselves do not have the power to make us happy. Losing 10kg means absolutely nothing until you attach some kind of meaning to it in your mind. (If, for example, you're in the grips of a chronic illness struggling to keep weight on, losing 10kg could spell disaster. On the other hand, if you are overweight, and you've been eating healthfully and moving your body each day, those lost 10kg can feel like a major triumph). So the 10kg, in truth, is totally neutral. We make it mean something (good or bad) with the view we take in our own mind. 


To be fair, it can take time, lots of patience and persistence to change the mindsets that we so easily take for granted as being 'the truth'. There is so much conditioning to overcome, so much automatic thinking. But it can certainly be done (and in my view, it's definitely worth the effort). Who wants to hold onto a way of thinking that causes pain?


What does that mean for me in my 'which role' dilemma? I've stopped thinking about roles, and balancing acts, and end-points in general. I've begun to change how I look at my life: preferring to see it as a collection of days and seasons, an overlapping of the various 'hats' I wear which really, are all extensions of me, rather than individual chunks in my life. I've also spent time really thinking about what I need to do, what I have to do, and what I want to do. It's been a fun list to declutter and pare down (especially the have to's). 


Now, if you'll excuse me, I absolutely need to go and make a coffee. And I really want to eat some chocolate. In my mind, that stuff is pure gold.