Sorting Out YOU After A Human Pops Out Of You

Nothing like a baby bursting through your vagina like an old western sheriff kicking down a tavern door. (Testing out my mayoral acceptance speech here.) 

But really, nothing like becoming a parent to change your viewpoint about who you are, or whom you’re supposed to be.

You go from being someone who can jump up and run to Walgreens on a moment’s notice with no consideration of the effort involved, to someone who thinks twice about running errands that require:

• Baby

• Other baby

• Stroller

• Diaper bag

• Snacks

• Bottle

• Mood management 

• Parking spot awareness 

• Physical effort.

You realize when a human is extricated from your body that YOU as a mother are now The Most Sacred Person in that child’s life. YOU— the same person who questions herself, who’s binge-watched Sex and The City for entire weekends back in the dia, who’s driven her car down to a teaspoon of gas— now is a certified EMPRESS essentially. 

So with this official title which I’ve bestowed unto you (congrats!) there’s no doubt that at some point in your sleep-deprived state, you’ve wondered WHO you are now that you’ve been blessed with this added identity. 

An identity with the magnitude of a Category 5 hurricane but less destructive to trees and homes and YES to millions of pounds of love. But also responsibility and gravity and meal prep and snacks. And a gazillion percent magic too, don't forget that. 

Who are you now that you are also a mom, and most importantly (at least for me):

How do you combine this sacred identity with the other elements of yourself, the ones you’re unwilling to ignore totally with motherhood?

Speaking personally, this has been a puzzle in my mind for about 2 years, up until recently which is why I’ve finally been able to write about it. 

My boyfriend is a businessman in the area in which we live, so first identity is: partner of a professional business genius…

But then I’m a comedienne (how FRENCH am I?! Someone give me a croissant.) making my own way…aka, I’m a goofball at heart with a sometimes twisted sense of humor, who cannot take life seriously 100% of the time. 

BUT THEN, I’m a mother now, so I can’t be a moron around my kids as I believe that setting an upstanding example is of paramount importance so that my kids don’t grow up to be people who run red lights or refuse to wipe down gym equipment (are women the ONLY ones doing this?!?!). 

AND THEN, I’m aware that I’m an immortal spiritual being who advocates, volunteers, and even works for a more humanitarian world, so THAT’S another semi-serious part of me extant.

You probably feel that way too otherwise you wouldn’t have read this far, am I right? 

If you were JUST a piano player and that is all you ever have wanted to do and all you’ve ever done, chances are you’d be stroking ivory and ebony and not reading this blog.

But I think it’s painfully common for people to feel like they embody a convergence of more than one river: 

Multiple different flows coming together in one space...

Maybe even crashing together, mixing together, and producing a unique thing called, well, you. 

This is something I’ve been dealing with for a long time because I felt like I had to pick ONE THING or else I’m a— gasp!— Jackie of All Trades, and (dramatic music plays now) duh duh duhhhhhh: 

Master of none. 

Waaa waaa waaaaaaahhh.

This mind babble, this conundrum distills down to this:

When the majority of life requires you to be a Navy Seal, how do you also give credence to yourself as a raw human, or maybe even an artist? 

I know I’m not alone in this…

In fact, earlier this year I went through the experience of getting old acne scars removed by a dermatological procedure called subcision. If you look it up, it’s cringe-worthy, and only done for people desperate to get rid of old, indented acne scars. Not a beauty luxury, but an expensive procedure creepy enough to warrant holistic ol’ me to demand laughing gas* to get through it. 

*Damn, it’s fun. 

To ease my jitters, my dermatologist with the confidence of a cat walking on a picket fence, made small talk with me during the procedure (I was able to talk without disrupting the procedure). He asked me what I did when I wasn’t spending thousands of dollars to slip a needle under my skin (always my first idea of a thrill), and I replied that I do stand-up.

He replied he was VERY interested in this and always wanted to try it himself!

Shocked I was considering the altitude of his profession, but this specialized doctor who makes buckoo bucks off vain first-world rats like me, has always wanted to try comedy! 

Alas, he admitted: 

“But if any of my patients ever saw me on stage, it would impart poorly upon my professionalism as a doctor…”

He didn’t even have to say the words, as I already knew the problem.

Hindsight, I wish I would’ve told him to just fly to Zimbabwe and go on a rant on stage in some club there where his patients surely wouldn’t be vacationing, but wasn’t sure how common standup clubs were in Zimbabwe, and I also wasn’t thinking totally clearly given laughing gas comment above. 

This brilliant man, a father of two, didn’t feel like he could exercise this part of himself because of how others would see him as a dermatologist— this one albeit very important, and rightly serious, identity. 

Alas, he ignores this creative thrust. At least for now. 

I don’t foresee him dropping his profession to pursue only this creative spark, no reason to. He’s successful at helping patients, he probably makes excellent money for self and family, and the thrust probably isn’t strong enough to make him squeeze in joke-writing nights and weekends. At least I don’t think so; maybe he IS waking up in a sweat at 4:00 am wondering how to test his sassiest double entendre on someone without losing his medical license. 

All this to say:

I am not alone in my conundrum.

So, how do you honor yourself as a creative whilst not jeopardizing your credibility as a Serious Person who pays their bills and doesn’t leave their trash bin on the curb all week, a pockmark upon the neighborhood? 

The answer has a lot to do with being present.

Do what you are doing WHEN you are doing it.

Examples:

When I’m with my toddlers, I’m wearing my Mom Hat. I’m acting as Mom, and I know I am doing that, and that is what I am doing, period. I’m not simultaneously wondering, worrying, mentally lifting cement blocks about other elements of myself (aka, being a comedy silly person). 

Similarly, when I snag time for myself to be a funny pants, I am JUST doing that. I’m not also recipe planning in my head, thinking about how to shake out all the cracker crumbs from my SUV, or decoding how to ensure my children are 100% literate and not addicted to social media. NOPE, all that can wait for Mom Hat to be slapped back on. 

I’m talkin’ about focus, and when focus is combined with deliberate doingness, you have a little ninja soup called competency. 

Think about it:

I’m sure that brain surgeons, whilst digging around in a brain (as one does on a Tuesday), aren’t also thinking about how to roast their Thanksgiving turkey so it doesn’t dry out and infuriate their Sri Lankan boyfriend who happens to HATE dry meat and will 100% yank your chain about it for months and months to come (sigh... not stressed or anything).

I’m sure that fighter jet pilots, whilst flying around $30 million dollar planes, aren’t ALSO thinking about if it’s really necessary to separate towels from colored clothes in the wash to save water and the cost of pricey eco-friendly laundry detergent (that stuff = gold). 

NOPE. These hyenas are focused on brains and planes, and they leave their other thoughts for other duties at home for later.    

Soooooooo just call me a BRAIN SURGEON basically because this girl has now decided to FOCUS on what she is doing whilst she is doing it. Bet you haven’t read “whilst” that many times in one article, and I’m sure you’re as pumped** about grammar as I am, HUH. 

**Kidding. YOU’RE ECSTATIC! 

Jk, again. 

This whole shifty shift of my mind’s eyeballs has really helped me honor the different parts of myself, and most excitingly, has helped me start producing and actually get stuff done amongst the different vectors of who I am.

Instead of questions and uncertainty— race cars speeding 200 mph ‘round and ‘round my mind— regarding “how do I marry up all these parts of me together without feeling like weathered splintered wood,” I just focus, and DO the dizzamn thing. 

Turns out, public enemy #1 of your dreams, big or small? Is being paralyzed into thinkingness, so you never take a step and just DO some-thing.