It's not that deep, Bruh. Or, is it?

Being a mom is all-consuming, and it's easy to lose sight of who we are outside of that role. But there comes a time when our kids start to venture out on their own, like when they go to camp for the first time, and we realize that our babies can thrive without us. And that realization is the best and worst feeling, all at the same time.

All of a sudden, your little dependents are off living their best life, jumping into lakes from trampolines, being eaten alive by tiny parasites in the lake, building bonds with leaders and peers, and God. It's a dream! Hands down, the best experience to watch. But, in full transparency, it's hard.

"What hobbies do you have?" is something people often ask. It's a question I've recently started to resent, actually. Because for me, every single hobby I have has been formed, in one way or another, by my kids. Photography became a way for me to capture moments without breaking the bank on professional photoshoots. I learned about soccer because my kids wanted to play. I tried to appreciate theater because my kids excelled in it. I even started working at a cabinet shop to have a flexible schedule that allowed me to be there for my children. I mean, really, right now, I am trying to get back into liking 90's rap because my 14-year-old is digging rap this year. And I hear the lyrics I used to love to dance to differently now that I am a mom of girls, so that's hard! My identity has been intertwined with theirs for so long that I struggle to define who I am as an individual.

Seriously, who am I? I found out really quickly while my girls were at camp this last summer that I have no idea. I'm just a person who has been trying to survive whatever obstacle that was given to me my entire life. I didn't really figure out who I was growing up, or, because I was a young mom, during my adolescence. And it shows.

We joined a new school last year, and the families at this school are amazing. They are supportive, Godly, a voice of reason. I mean, really, insert every positive thing I can say about the families into this paragraph. They grew up differently than I did and have different perspectives; last year, I felt insecure and intimidated. I often feel like I am a hot mess. I just finished the first season of Ginny and Georgia, and to be honest, I feel a lot like Georgia. I didn't grow up exactly the way she did. My parents and family were supportive and loving, but I did share some of her experiences, so I resonated with the mom, who didn't know what to do but was trying her hardest to make a different pathway for her girls in her own isolated way.

Anyway, the point of that spiral was to say that being a mom consumes us. And right now, life is extra hard. Our communal response to COVID was strange. The isolation has almost taken up permanent residency in our communities. People have forgotten how to talk to each other, disagree with each other, and support one another. It's made us all feel like it's us vs. them. That's the enemy working, and we are allowing it.

If you're a mom of young kids, the best advice I can give you is to grow yourself while you're raising your babies. Grow in your relationships and find a way to learn who you are continually. Because with growth comes confidence, and with confidence comes security. We need to feel secure to share our growing pains, to reach out and ask for help, and to want to be part of a tribe.

And if you're a mom or a person without a tribe, I get that, too. I'm not great with people, I'm not great with hard. My life has been about pushing away the hard, smiling, and pretending everything is good. “I don't have friends, that's okay, who needs 'em? They're way too much work.” "Girls are crazy," I said growing up. And they are; relationships are hard. And I probably just discovered, while writing this blog, that my hobby might be "world's best pretender." I can laugh off just about anything; that's my coping mechanism.

But a couple of months ago, I found in the isolation of my basement, with my entire family upstairs, fighting with each other, that I could not laugh off my depression anymore. I found that I couldn't stop crying and wishing that life was different or that I wasn't a part of that life anymore. And without God, I would have cracked.

To be honest, I never expected to feel that hopeless. Until recently, I never understood how someone, especially a mom, could feel that way. I struggle and feel like my brain is broken, but the rational side of my brain tries to talk through the fear and hopelessness. It's not broken; it's just growing. But that broken isolation is a force to be reckoned with. And if you feel the same things and think the same things I think sometimes, I want you to know there is hope. I know it doesn't feel like it, but there IS hope. And also that you're not broken or, if you are, it's okay to be broken. We can get through it together. Because having a tribe, even if it's annoying, inconvenient at times, and stretches us beyond what we think we are capable of, having a tribe is important. It's a necessity. And it's possible for you too. We are on this journey together. We can grow together.

Xox

Liz