This New Person
About 8 months ago I met two new people. One teeny tiny one that relies on me for everything. And one slightly bigger person who I’ve spent my whole entire life trying to figure out.
Me.
It’s interesting how you spend all this time preparing your heart and your home for this little person, and yet you can’t quite prepare yourself for the other person you will meet at the exact same time: yourself as a parent, and for me, a mom.
It’s not a negative, the exact opposite in fact. I thoroughly enjoy getting to know myself better. The ebbs and flows of life and constant transitions, though difficult, are also exciting. When I look back over my life, I see a series of new people sewn in with the old person I was, and what a beautiful tapestry it makes.
Now enough with the poetic writer stuff. My apologies. I expect you want the vulnerable, knitty gritty out of me right? Okay, I’ll do my best.
Trying to find your new sense of self while also taking care for a teeny person 24/7…not easy. Where I used to have a variety of ways to escape or care for myself emotionally, I now am only left with a few, and usually I am too tired to really pursue those.
Self love has taken on a little bit of a different feel these days. A warm cup of coffee in the afternoon, a nap while she naps, a quick workout before she needs to be fed again. Everything feels a little bit rushed, with a baby waiting at the end of every activity. I must try so very hard to rest.
Well crap. Because resting has never been my strong suit. I’ve never been a good napper, mediator, lie around all day-er. Productive is the only thing that feels right to me. Hilariously, now I am a mom, so productive goes right out the window. A day where laundry gets done but the rest of the house is a wreck is a win. A shower every three days is a win. A blog post written on a weekday is a win. A few moments journaling about my hopes and dreams-MAJOR WIN.
When I take a step back, I am the same me I have always been, with just a few little changes. And I have to work hard to remember that when it feels as though my life is nothing like it was, that I am a totally different person, I am just me, with a baby. And maybe the seasons of my life look a little different, and I have to spend my “free time” more wisely than I once did. But maybe it’s a gift to be forced into intentionality. To be given a reason to fight against day to day melancholy as I play blocks on the floor for yet another hour.
I’m still in there. There’s just a teeny person clinging to my hip. And I would take one toothy grin over a weekend on stage, or a 5 mile run, or a full night of sleep. Those things will come again, but for now, this is my beautiful, messy, exhausting life. And I am the same Lizz living in it.
