Have you heard of matrescence?
Not enough people have, I think.
Matrescence is the transition of becoming a mother. The prenatal, pregnancy/birth (surrogacy and/or adoption) and the post-natal period (and beyond).
The term was coined by anthropologist Dana Raphael and I feel it deserves a lot more exploration.
Similar to adolescence there’s a process of learning and unlearning, deep transformation, radically shifting hormones; and self-erasure and self-discovery. And if you’re really lucky, you’ll also be rocking some serious zits.
Becoming a parent is wildly intense. Layers of conflicting feelings all stacked up in one pile. Immense joy and gratitude, compounded by love and this unmatched biological tether - mixed with grief, confusion, overwhelm and incredible sleep deprivation.
It’s no secret that I have struggled to adapt to motherhood. I have shared my candid feelings in previous articles about how my initial steps into this new role were horrendously ungraceful. Since then, I’ve fumbled my way through in effort to create some form of rhythm. I’ve figured out some ways to show up for these cool peeps of mine - but it’s surprising to me that after four years, and two children that I am still struggling to find my stride.
I feel sort of like I’ve lost myself along the way. I used to have this incredible amount of focus and drive - which, presently, is nowhere to be found. I am so tired - I can’t keep up with the person I was before. Turns out, previous-me was an ambitious fella.
I don’t share this in effort to gain pity or empathy. I am sharing because I’m pretty confident my story is un-unique.
Whether we mothers find ourselves floundering for our identities in the early-years (like me) - or perhaps later. When your kiddos are in their teens or early adulthood they are exploring a level of independence - it might feel like you’ve been shoved from a trusted and adored loved one into a meagre acquaintance or ‘the help.’ The circumstances might seem different but the result is the same… feeling displaced, lost, or lacking a directive.
I feel this feeling can come at any point in our lives, and it perhaps is a little different for each person.
If you have been the primary caregiver for another - and have lost yourself in the task. You deserve to know that it’s valid. It’s real. There is a real, philological shift that has occurred and it’s easy to feel that parts of you have wasted away.
I wish I had a bucket of solutions. Ways to make us all feel better.
I can spout off the annoying stuff that everyone else says. Blah-blah meditate and go for a walk. Prioritize making time with people you enjoy; the people who see you for who you are, and not who you are relative to your kid. Explore hobbies and create time for joy.
Don’t underestimate the therapeutic powers of trash TV. Perhaps ditch the Paw Patrol or Bluey episode and treat yourself to some brain-rotting reality show. There are some amazing (cough-smut-cough) books out there that are incredibly therapeutic.
Joy is multidimensional and there isn’t anyone that can convince me otherwise. This means that it’s perfectly okay to occasionally invest your time into dumb things - as long as they make you happy.
Just over here trying to legitimize those weird unspoken challenges that arise for those in the role of a primary care-giver. And give merit to the importance of finding joy. Even if that joy is superficially acquired through smutty books and bad TV.
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