Lost in Transition

Confucius once said, "If therapy was fun, everyone would do it." Well, maybe it wasn't Confucius, but rather my best friend who said it, although I'm sure he would agree if given the opportunity. And while I am certain therapy is not "fun" I am uncertain as to whether or not most people are not doing it. In fact, I have come to the conclusion that therapists are strangely similar to miscarriages. Translation: You don't always know that someone has had one unless you talk about your own.

Of course I cannot speak for everyone, but I can speak from my own personal experience. So, if you're going to keep track, the official record is:

Therapists - 1
Miscarriages - 11

Neither of which is something to be proud of - it just is what it is. So, at my very first "private" session today I was prodded to ponder "Who the hell am I?" Because somewhere, somehow, over the last five years, I have lost what it means to be me.

Does every mother have that pivotal event when they realize their previous identity has been completely hijacked and their life has been reduced to a mundane, zombie-like routine that repeats over and over and over - a little like Groundhog Day?

Oh, I had my event. I am certain of that! I distinctly remember driving my daughter to preschool – not even real school yet – preschool. All three kids were in the car and I was trying to find that perfect song to jam out to - you know like something from 50 cent or Sir Mix A Lot. I’m not sure why we “jam” to anything, after all, my kids are 5, 3, and 18 months! But that is besides the point. I think we had settled on “Boom Boom Pow” when my daughter starts in on one of her, “Tell me everything you know about…” diatribes.

It usually starts simple enough. “Tell me everything you know about veins.” As I wracked my brain trying to decide what I was going to tell my daughter about veins, I instantly said, “Maybe we should ask your dad when he gets home tonight. He’s a doctor. He knows a lot about veins.”

I glanced back at her sitting in her car seat and I could see her little mind working a mile a minute. “OK mommy. Then tell me everything you know about the planets.”

Crap. I really didn’t know that much about the planets. I mean, I had been to a planetarium and that’s about it. And let’s be honest, I guess I never cared too much about the planets. They’re just super bright stars a million miles away and I don’t even like to fly.

So, I answered, “I bet your daddy would know a lot more about the planets. He was super into science. I bet he can answer some of your questions.”

“Well, then tell me everything you know about dinosaurs.” I’m sure you know where this one is going to end up. “Your daddy knows a lot more about dinosaurs than I do, let’s ask him tonight when he gets home.”

I tried to be sly and throw her off guard by turning the radio up a little louder, but she didn’t seem to fall for it. Here it comes…I can sense she’s about to deliver the zinger. “Well then mommy, why don’t you tell me everything you know about SOMETHING that you know.”

You may have just put a fork in me and called me “done.” I couldn’t believe a five year old was stumping me with this kind of question! And the more I thought about it, the more stumped I became. For the life of me, I simply could not think of ONE thing that I knew ANYTHING about.

Seriously? Who the hell am I? Has my former self simply vanished into thin air? Has my whole life been reduced to dressing up a sweatsuit, kid boogers, changing diapers, and dictating timeouts? No, I don't think so. I really hope not. But how is it that I can't really remember any shred of my former self? I have the utmost confidence that I can in fact balance being a mom AND an individual...Why can't I be a model, a mother and a mogul? Kimora Lee Simmons does it.

I'm really hoping that over the next 361 days I can rediscover who it is that I am, and who I want to be, because right now I think I'm still searching. I think I am lost in transition.