#3. You do get a version of your old self back. A little war-torn, but a recognizable version. When I was in the thick of it I hated so much people who said "the days are slow but the years are fast" or "enjoy it while you can" while I dreamed of just being by myself. And now my kids are out of the house...the big, quiet, empty house...and I wonder if I did enough to try to enjoy the chaos as it was happening. Damn those years went so so fast.
The years went so fast. They still are. My baby boy is 37 and baby girl is 33. But I still feel 35 🤷. Whatevs. You got this. Please, just take a deep breath and try to enjoy it. You made humans and now you get to civilize them. Good luck. 😘
You don’t get the old self back exactly. But you get something better. A older, wiser, cooler self, and you will enjoy freedom again. Your kids are only small and want to be around you all the time for so long, and then it’s just you again. But better.
I have a 15 year old and it’s….glorious? He will talk to me at meals but otherwise is focused on his friends and his emerging life and I have my time back! I am not my pre-parent self, but I am a third new version (probably 5 or 6 if I’m being honest). It happens slowly then all at once! You can’t take a shit in private, and the next thing you know, you ask them to just please stay at the table until everyone is done with dinner. No in the evening I can decide… do I have enough energy to do anything? If no- what version of doing nothing will the next few hours hold? Maybe work on a puzzle. Watch a baseball game. Try not to spend the hours scrolling on my phone. Throughout all of it, the only interest my kid shows is when he emerges from his room to forage for snacks. Having a whole evening to waste in 100% the way I decide is a luxury I appreciate every day. Toddlerhood was THE WORST phase of parenting for me!
I have grieved many past selves as a chronically disabled person, as a woman, as a sexual assault victim, as a friend and lover, as a person who goes by a name she doesn’t want to recognize. Each time, I don’t want to. Each time, I wonder if it will be the last time, if I’m the final me, but I’m not, not now, not next self or the next or the next. But that’s fine. I’ve made space for grief in me now, created a little black hole for it to get sucked into, always waiting for an old me to be viscerally taken away so I can be a new version. I just make sure I keep things each time. I’ll keep the memories, the lessons, the love, the indifference, the knowledge, maybe the photographs, then leave the rest.
1. I don’t grieve who I was. I sort of grieve having the energy, and my old body (I know so typical), and my hair. I miss freedom to do whatever. I miss being alone, god, I miss being alone, not having my pant leg pulled at all times.
They’re cute, most of what they say is a version of “I love you”. I asked my three year old today if she thought I looked nice in my new dress and she looked at me, as serious as I’ve ever seen her and said: mommy, you’re so beautiful. I could tell she meant it so much that I nearly cried. But still I’d just like to be alone for 65% of the day. Or spend more of it with adults.
I don’t grieve who I was but I do grieve all these luxuries.
2. Not a beer can but I feel like I used to get good and drunk. Now I’m so out of practice I don’t ever feel drunk or tipsy. Just tired and “I’m going home” tired. My friends did shrooms the other night, I stared longingly and went home, played call of duty until one am and went to bed.
6. It’s a difficult subject. You don’t expect your whole being to be shaken up at the tender age of 30+, or late twenties. People see you different, have different expectations too. But realistically it’s not like I was so great before.
If I never had kids I’d be happy, and regret it when it became too late to change anything, but have a full life anyway.
I did have them and staked my entire heart and happiness on their prosperity and survival. It’s stupid, to have children, but the world kind of depends on us being this type of stupid. And they *are* so lovely
Detonating beers to drugs to no drugs to marriage to parenthood to widowhood to marriage again to empty nest to grandfatherhood. New selves pop up like you’re plying whack-a-mole. Never grieve the old ones. There are so many! Excellent post.
#3) the self you get back is more you than the old self was if that makes any sense. You are in what I called the crucible (after getting through it), not unlike what the Marines do to new recruits only it happens over a longer period. Your sense of self is torn down. It's a loss and deserving of grief. There are times when the urge to get in your car , alone, and just keep driving almost overpowers you (ok, me).
My kid ( born 49 years ago tomorrow when I was an 18-year-old college student) introduced me to sides of myself that I may never have known were there. It was exciting when I was awake enough to appreciate it then. I'm even more grateful now.
P.S. Long ago, I was married to a champion detonater. He used a Bic pen to make the hole in the can before " shooting" the beer. Give me a toddler any day . At least the puke is not your own.
The self I got back is so much better than my pre-parent self. Being a parent taught me A LOT. Plus I now have these extra adults in my life who love me and understand me, which is cool. And their lovely wives and girlfriends!
Love that you share all the feelings parenting brings, it’s okay to feel all of it. The option to be the detonator (even if you don’t want to actually do it) is filled with lots of mixed emotion. It’s the idea of being free and able to detonate when you like. Whatever detonate means to each of us… it could be anything…
Staying in touch with that side of yourself is important even as a parent; at least is for me… otherwise the scale tips too far to the resentment/ anger side. The old self is still you, is still there and needs to be acknowledged through the change in roles and growth. 🤍
I think that becoming a parent for me, has been more about me realizing I don’t think I ever truly knew my TRUE self. I feel I am coming into it more as my son grows. April 24th my little guy will be one.
I have unfolding pieces of me and healed pieces of me I never realized were damaged or never knew they were something that needed work. I do mourn certain things, like how I’m really trying to kick start my writing career and potential business plans but it’s hard to be a stay at home mom always “working” while trying to work for an income (or in my case: passion). I have the same feelings of remorse as you: feeling bad I don’t write, but happy I spent time with the fam and vice versa. Thank you for writing this piece Alex!
I never grieved her but I know I'll never get her back. This is definitely a good thing. Parenthood forces you to confront yourself. Once you no longer have access to your subconscious coping mechanisms (that's the dignity thing I guess!) you have no choice but to rebuild yourself from scratch. I'm pretty chuffed with the remodel so far. She gives way fewer fucks.
You never get your old self back. But you get a new self. Yearning for when your kids were three and four and still thought Mama was the greatest and the world was a big amusement park. Grateful to be able to work without worrying, are the kids okay? Am I talking to much time away from them? Then, retired, a grandparent now, a new sense of responsibility emerges. Don’t drink that third margarita that you’d learned to have when your kids first left the nest. Now you’re the parent of two adults and the grandchildren.
A famous comedian who was also a father wrote a couple decades ago that the best moment of the day was the time after the closed the passenger door and walked around his car to open the driver's door.
#3. You do get a version of your old self back. A little war-torn, but a recognizable version. When I was in the thick of it I hated so much people who said "the days are slow but the years are fast" or "enjoy it while you can" while I dreamed of just being by myself. And now my kids are out of the house...the big, quiet, empty house...and I wonder if I did enough to try to enjoy the chaos as it was happening. Damn those years went so so fast.
The years went so fast. They still are. My baby boy is 37 and baby girl is 33. But I still feel 35 🤷. Whatevs. You got this. Please, just take a deep breath and try to enjoy it. You made humans and now you get to civilize them. Good luck. 😘
You don’t get the old self back exactly. But you get something better. A older, wiser, cooler self, and you will enjoy freedom again. Your kids are only small and want to be around you all the time for so long, and then it’s just you again. But better.
I have a 15 year old and it’s….glorious? He will talk to me at meals but otherwise is focused on his friends and his emerging life and I have my time back! I am not my pre-parent self, but I am a third new version (probably 5 or 6 if I’m being honest). It happens slowly then all at once! You can’t take a shit in private, and the next thing you know, you ask them to just please stay at the table until everyone is done with dinner. No in the evening I can decide… do I have enough energy to do anything? If no- what version of doing nothing will the next few hours hold? Maybe work on a puzzle. Watch a baseball game. Try not to spend the hours scrolling on my phone. Throughout all of it, the only interest my kid shows is when he emerges from his room to forage for snacks. Having a whole evening to waste in 100% the way I decide is a luxury I appreciate every day. Toddlerhood was THE WORST phase of parenting for me!
I have grieved many past selves as a chronically disabled person, as a woman, as a sexual assault victim, as a friend and lover, as a person who goes by a name she doesn’t want to recognize. Each time, I don’t want to. Each time, I wonder if it will be the last time, if I’m the final me, but I’m not, not now, not next self or the next or the next. But that’s fine. I’ve made space for grief in me now, created a little black hole for it to get sucked into, always waiting for an old me to be viscerally taken away so I can be a new version. I just make sure I keep things each time. I’ll keep the memories, the lessons, the love, the indifference, the knowledge, maybe the photographs, then leave the rest.
1. I don’t grieve who I was. I sort of grieve having the energy, and my old body (I know so typical), and my hair. I miss freedom to do whatever. I miss being alone, god, I miss being alone, not having my pant leg pulled at all times.
They’re cute, most of what they say is a version of “I love you”. I asked my three year old today if she thought I looked nice in my new dress and she looked at me, as serious as I’ve ever seen her and said: mommy, you’re so beautiful. I could tell she meant it so much that I nearly cried. But still I’d just like to be alone for 65% of the day. Or spend more of it with adults.
I don’t grieve who I was but I do grieve all these luxuries.
2. Not a beer can but I feel like I used to get good and drunk. Now I’m so out of practice I don’t ever feel drunk or tipsy. Just tired and “I’m going home” tired. My friends did shrooms the other night, I stared longingly and went home, played call of duty until one am and went to bed.
6. It’s a difficult subject. You don’t expect your whole being to be shaken up at the tender age of 30+, or late twenties. People see you different, have different expectations too. But realistically it’s not like I was so great before.
If I never had kids I’d be happy, and regret it when it became too late to change anything, but have a full life anyway.
I did have them and staked my entire heart and happiness on their prosperity and survival. It’s stupid, to have children, but the world kind of depends on us being this type of stupid. And they *are* so lovely
Detonating beers to drugs to no drugs to marriage to parenthood to widowhood to marriage again to empty nest to grandfatherhood. New selves pop up like you’re plying whack-a-mole. Never grieve the old ones. There are so many! Excellent post.
#3) the self you get back is more you than the old self was if that makes any sense. You are in what I called the crucible (after getting through it), not unlike what the Marines do to new recruits only it happens over a longer period. Your sense of self is torn down. It's a loss and deserving of grief. There are times when the urge to get in your car , alone, and just keep driving almost overpowers you (ok, me).
My kid ( born 49 years ago tomorrow when I was an 18-year-old college student) introduced me to sides of myself that I may never have known were there. It was exciting when I was awake enough to appreciate it then. I'm even more grateful now.
P.S. Long ago, I was married to a champion detonater. He used a Bic pen to make the hole in the can before " shooting" the beer. Give me a toddler any day . At least the puke is not your own.
The self I got back is so much better than my pre-parent self. Being a parent taught me A LOT. Plus I now have these extra adults in my life who love me and understand me, which is cool. And their lovely wives and girlfriends!
Love that you share all the feelings parenting brings, it’s okay to feel all of it. The option to be the detonator (even if you don’t want to actually do it) is filled with lots of mixed emotion. It’s the idea of being free and able to detonate when you like. Whatever detonate means to each of us… it could be anything…
Staying in touch with that side of yourself is important even as a parent; at least is for me… otherwise the scale tips too far to the resentment/ anger side. The old self is still you, is still there and needs to be acknowledged through the change in roles and growth. 🤍
Thank you for your honesty 🙏🏻
I think that becoming a parent for me, has been more about me realizing I don’t think I ever truly knew my TRUE self. I feel I am coming into it more as my son grows. April 24th my little guy will be one.
I have unfolding pieces of me and healed pieces of me I never realized were damaged or never knew they were something that needed work. I do mourn certain things, like how I’m really trying to kick start my writing career and potential business plans but it’s hard to be a stay at home mom always “working” while trying to work for an income (or in my case: passion). I have the same feelings of remorse as you: feeling bad I don’t write, but happy I spent time with the fam and vice versa. Thank you for writing this piece Alex!
Comport (Comport!)
I never grieved her but I know I'll never get her back. This is definitely a good thing. Parenthood forces you to confront yourself. Once you no longer have access to your subconscious coping mechanisms (that's the dignity thing I guess!) you have no choice but to rebuild yourself from scratch. I'm pretty chuffed with the remodel so far. She gives way fewer fucks.
You never get your old self back. But you get a new self. Yearning for when your kids were three and four and still thought Mama was the greatest and the world was a big amusement park. Grateful to be able to work without worrying, are the kids okay? Am I talking to much time away from them? Then, retired, a grandparent now, a new sense of responsibility emerges. Don’t drink that third margarita that you’d learned to have when your kids first left the nest. Now you’re the parent of two adults and the grandchildren.
A famous comedian who was also a father wrote a couple decades ago that the best moment of the day was the time after the closed the passenger door and walked around his car to open the driver's door.